


The Apprentice

by halosaximus



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Even MORE Magic, M/M, Magic, Magicians, Original Universe, Past Character Death, Slow Burn, There's just a lot of magic going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 80,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halosaximus/pseuds/halosaximus
Summary: "Those who cannot see have already been blinded by their own eyes. I trust you will keep yours open."It took them thirty years to find the Chosen One. Now, all Evan has to do, is turn his apprentice in magics into less of an idiot.





	1. Tendrils

If it hadn't been a common occurrence, the man staring at him from across the store in the long, ominous coat would have frightened Jonathan.

It wasn't the man himself, per say. It was simply the fact that, if any one person came into a run-down grocery store at three in the morning, they were either insomniacs or creepers. He was fond of both, though in an unsettling way, for the most part. So, when he saw that there was yet another late-night dweller with his eyes set on the worker behind the counter, he made sure his pocketknife was still in his work jacket before resuming his work.

Everything was going perfectly normal (as normal as working the night-shift could be) until the doors to the shop opened again, and yet another man in a dark, ominous coat walked in. Now, he began to feel slightly frightened even more so, but not to the point of being terrified. He decided that, if they wanted the money he was currently counting, they could take it while he stocked the shelves and leave him unharmed.

However, when he slid the money back in the register and slipped from the counter to head towards the storage room at the opposite end of the building, the two men began taking steady steps in his direction. So now, he was walking very swiftly, keeping his eyes forward and his ears perked as the footsteps came nearer. He wasn't being paid minimum wage for _this_.

Now, he was running, and he had shut himself in the storage room before barricading the door with the large steel bar that slid smoothly into the rack. His heart was pounding profusely in terror and he was panting slightly because of it. The men were hammering at the door, though their mouths remained silent. He could barely comprehend his situation as he looked for an escape.

He spotted a bolted window in the corner, one he had never cared so much for until that moment, and looked around the room for something to break it. He found the fire extinguisher tied to the wall and undid it quickly, the beating on the door becoming ever more heavy and frantic as the steel began to dent.

He took the object and rushed to the window, taking the end of it and ramming it as forcefully as he could into the glass. It cracked slightly, but still holding tight. The pounding was overpower his ears as he continued to thrust the fire extinguisher into the window, his breathing becoming audible with high pitch pants of exertion until it finally broke through. He used it to get the rest of the glass out before hopping onto the ledge.

Suddenly, the door was knocked off its hinges, the bar holding it shut nearly hitting him as it was sent flying. The men in the dark coats tromped in, their eyes searching until they landed on him. Jon's eyes widened, and he lunged his body out of the small window as quickly as his tall, lanky body would allow him.

His feet hit the ground as the men reached the window, and he began to sprint through the dark alley beyond the grocery store. No matter how fast he may have ran, he could still hear the loud patter of footsteps on the wet pavement behind him, still feel the rain-soaked shirt sticking to his skin and chilling his bones. White puffs emitted into the air as he turned corner after corner, sparing no glance behind, as he knew they were still on his tail.

When he came to his senses, the men were still chasing him, and he now faced a large, brick wall in an unknown alleyway. His eyes widened as his heart dropped, and he let out a soft, muttered curse beneath his breath. He spun in a flash to see the men slowly closing in, and he trembled in his shoes.

This was it. This was how he went out. Murdered by strange men he'd never seen a day in his life in a one-way alley. Honestly, he had grown up expecting worse, but this was still very far from pleasant, exceedingly so.

Of all the things he had expected to happen, Jonathan had not imagined yet another cloaked figure landing gracefully on the pavement before him in a flash. He was taken aback, nearly falling as he regained his composure. The man before him wore a cloak similar to his supposedly soon-to-be captors, though a slightly darker shade, more dense than the shadows surrounding them. Upon his head was a large hat with a few feathers sticking out from the top, adding emphasis to its size. By his sides, he clenched his gloved hands as a stunning owl of silver and gold landed on his hat.

They alley went silent, and Jonathan's breath hitched. "You have no business here, magician," One of the cloaked men from before had announced, his voice low and raspy as if he were ill. His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. "We are taking this man with us."

"I cannot allow you to commit such an act," His savior (savior? savior) answered, the owl seemed to responded with a loud _hoo_. Its feathers ruffled, and one of the men laughed. Jonathan had not stopped trembling; he couldn't comprehend a single event playing back to ten minutes or so. "We have searched years for the Chosen One- we would not give him up so easily."

"Then why stall, magician?" One of the two spat. The man before him, from behind, looked nothing like any sort of magician he had seen before, which left him even more confused. "You are outnumbered- you have no chance of succeeding."

"Your calculations are off, sirs," The 'magician' raised his arm, and the owl landed on it gracefully before spreading its wings once more. "My affiliate here is as good a man as I may ever hope to be."

"We have battled worse than a measly little bird," The other man declared, his footstep crunching rocks on the pavement as he stepped forward slightly. "We have faced scum of your kind wielding bears."

"I do not believe you quite understand the concept of an affiliate," The magician raised his arm and the owl lifted itself into the air, a soft glow emitting from its gold wings. Jonathan's mouth seemed to open the more it shined, becoming as bright as the sun while his jaw began to set with a dull ache. His head began to spin with questions as the bird's aura only grew brighter. "Their power does not come from their size, nor their species. It dwells in their _soul_ , and is emitted from their _mind_."

The owl lit with a burning flame like that of the phoenix, letting out a deafening shriek before ascending upon the magician's opponents. He blocked his eyes with his arm as the world beyond his closed eyelids turned a fiery orange, and the great blast of heat contained in the alleyway gave a strong gust of wind that nearly knocked him from his quivering legs.

The alleyway went quiet and cold as it had before, the wind silencing as the rain came to a halt. The world around him was deathly still. He opened his eyes slowly, cautiously, scanning the area- only to find the magician still turned away and two piles of ash laying on the hard, wet pavement. The owl landed back upon his head as if nothing had just occurred, and Jonathan found himself becoming fatigued with every question running through his mind.

The magician turned to him, his face shrouded in darkness with the sheer size of his hat. The owl ruffled his feathers, and Jonathan stood straight. He could not make out the magician's features, nor did he have any guesses as to who he may be, and he found himself utterly dazed and confused.

"What the hell was that?" Was all he could speak, his voice low and shaky as he looked past the man at what had previously been two human beings and were now reduced to black dust. His head tilted in confusion, and the magician took a step towards him. Instinctively, he took a step away from the stranger, but paused when he only continued to walk past him. The magician placed gloved hand on the brick wall behind Jonathan, seeming to almost listen to its silent words. "Dude? Hello?"

The magician didn't respond as he took a few strides back, his hands flying elegantly through the air before he uttered something in a foreign language Jonathan found himself at a loss of perceiving. A strange red glow emitted from his hands and shot towards the wall, landing and forming an ever expanding oval.

Jonathan could barely comprehend what his eyes showed him. First, he had been chased by strangers, then a 'magician' had appeared out of saved him with some weird owl-phoenix-thing, and now the same man just shot a strange red-like, almost purple substance on a brick wall out of thin air. Truly, could this night be any more odd?

"Get in." The way it was put made it clear that he had no choice in the matter, but he still found himself immobile as he looked to the magician. He could see him better from that angle; dark skin, eyes of an eastern fellow and stone-like features holding no room for any sort of amusement.

He shook his head, taking a step away from the magician and the mysterious force he had just created. "No, no, I don't know you. I don't _trust_ you, and I don't know what the hell is going on."

"All will be explained in good time, Jonathan," The man assured him, his features still blank and cold. Really, the situation he was currently in was not a favorable one; he'd much rather be home sleeping or playing video games. And how did this man know his name?

He repeated the question in his mind aloud, and the magician sighed as he placed a gloved hand on his hip. The owl chirped unhappily on the man's hat, and Jonathan swore he was being sassed by a bird. "We don't have any time. The force of my attack sent waves all across the state, and more knights could arrive any second. You don't want that, do you?"

"What is it? Some sort of portal?" Jonathan asked, and the magician was silent for a moment before answering.

"Sure."

"You don't sound sure."

"Neither do you," The magician retorted, and the man scoffed. He looked to the red cloud swirling about the bricks and took a step forward, eyeing it cautiously. Behind him, the magician tapped his foot as he grew nearer to the foggy curtain, impatient.

He was about two feet away when he stopped, wanting to take a second to reconsider, but the magician had already snapped with an agitated sigh.

"You mortals are so damn _difficult_."

The magician crashed Jonathan's head into the brick wall beside the portal, and he was torn from consciousness before he could comprehend what had happened.


	2. Sleeping Powder

"Jonathan, you have a visitor," The boy turned his head to the woman in the doorway, his grip tightening on the teddy bear in his hands. He only stared at her for a few seconds until she spoke again. "Jonathan?"

He remained silent as he trudged towards her, and she smiled. He took the hand she offered, it being twice the size of his own and seeming to crush his bone-like fingers. His bear was tucked under his right arm as he eyed the looming doors ahead cautiously.

His small mind could barely comprehend the situation; all his life, he hadn't received a single visitor, nor had anyone ever thought of filling out the forms for his adoption. Quite oddly, no one had offered to take him in as a baby, and he was now far too old to be wanted by couples. Five was a bad age.

The woman led him into the playroom where children around his age bounded and pranced from wall to wall, not paying any mind to the man who sat at the undersized table in the corner, tapping his fingers on its plastic surface. The man looked strange, from what he could see; he wore strange, dark robes and had a large feathered hat sitting on the table before him, his thin eyes lined in something dark he couldn't make out. He also looked rather uncomfortable in that small chair meant for children as small as Jonathan.

He began to tense up as they grew nearer, clutching his teddy bear even closer to his chest. The man took notice to them, smiling. The boy sat down across the small table from the man, his eyes stuck to the floor. He hugged his bear and bit his lip anxiously.

"Jonathan, this is Mr. Fong. He's thinking about adopting you, and he wanted to get to know you better," The woman told him, and he tried to get the message through his head. Something in the back of his mind was telling him otherwise, that this man wouldn't like him and adopt a different child in the orphanage, perhaps one of the few remaining babies in the nursery. "Is it alright if I leave you two to talk?"

He didn't respond, and the woman only turned to the man. "He's a very quiet child, very conserved. Are you sure you weren't looking for Jonathan P.?"

"I'm quite sure, ma'am. Thank you," The man had an accent, but he couldn't depict where from. He found it both endearing and even more frightening. Even still, as the woman walked away, the man only spoke in a soft voice. "How are you today, Jonathan?"

"Good." He answered, his mouth drawing into a straight line as he refused to look up.

"Can I let you in on a little secret, Jonathan?" The man leaned forward, and he raised his head to meet his eyes. Though his body remained still, his ears perked with interest, the grip on his bear loosening. He nodded. "There are a lot of people who want to adopt you, just like me."

"...Why?" He responded, not knowing what else to say. The man only smiled weakly and looked down at his hands.

"Because, Jonathan," Their eyes met. "You are a very special boy, more special than you may know, and a lot of people admire you for that. They want to, erm... _adopt you_ , and have all those special things for themselves."

"Are they bad people?" He questioned, his arms beginning to quiver around the bear in his arms. He couldn't quite understand the message of the man's words, only the chilled feeling radiating off of them.

"I'm afraid some of them are, Jonathan."

"Are _you_ a bad person?" The man chuckled, shaking his head while still tapping anxious fingers on the table in front of him. He looked even more so uncomfortable than when the boy had first laid eyes on him.

"I wouldn't consider myself one, no."

"But villains think the same way," Jonathan told him, and the man looked at him with an attentive gaze. "They think that what they do is good, and that's why they do it."

The man seemed at a loss for words. The corners of his mouth perked up into a slight grin, and nodded after a few moments, letting out another chuckle. Despite what Jonathan had said, he was starting to believe this man wasn't the villain he had nearly accused him of being. At least, he didn't _look_ like a villain.

"You're right, Jonathan. You're a very smart boy, which is why I need you to listen carefully, because you're the only one who could understand," The man leaned in close, nearly draping his entire body over the table. The child's eyes slightly grew as he waited for the man's words. His tone was low when he spoke.

"I'm afraid I can't take you with me, Jonathan, and I'm afraid no one else can take you, either. No one can find you if you stay here at the orphanage, alright?" He nodded, though his heart dropped. He had truly believed this man would adopt him. And to hear that no one else could adopt him, either? He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "It might not make much sense now, but it will, later on."

"Will I ever see you again?" Jonathan told him, clutching his teddy bear close to his chest. His voice became distorted, tears beginning to slowly fall. "Will you come back to adopt me?"

"You only have, what, ten, twelve years left here? Then, you'll be your own man," Jonathan nodded, and the man sighed as he reached up his thumbs to swipe away the boy's tears. He was hesitant, but succumbed to the soothing gesture. "We will see each other again, I can assure you. Perhaps not like this, exactly, but...someday."

"Do you promise?"

The man was silent as they stared at each other for a few long moments. Beyond the wall they had formed, children left the playroom, and the caretakers waited for them to take their leave. Jonathan paid no mind to it.

"I promise."

~#~

Jonathan was brought back to reality in a daze, first noticing the thick heat of the location he resided in, then following with the pounding ache in his head. His eyes squinted shut as he saw the bright lights beyond their covers, letting out a soft groan. Somewhere next to him, something moved, gentle footsteps tapping the hard ground.

He tried to move his limbs, only to find he was unable. He let out a soft whimper of frustration as he tried again with no avail. He was left utterly bewildered and terrified; there didn't seem to be any restraints holding him down to the soft surface he lay upon. His mind was swimming with questions; where was he, why was he there, why couldn't he feel anything? And, most oddly important, why had he dreamed that memory, and in such vivid detail?

"Relax," He heard a man speak gently, standing above him as a warm, damp towel was laid on his forehead. It did little to soothe his headache but still found himself opening his eyes. He had to shut them a few times after, the light hanging above him still somewhat blinding. Once they had adjusted, he opened them slowly, taking into account how the light overhead really wasn't as bright as he'd first made it out to be.

He turned his head to the right, seeing a man work with his back turned to Jonathan. From what he could see, he had a finely trimmed beard and a hard gaze, focused. The area they resided in was made of soft wood and even softer colors, calming blues and light violets. The man next to him didn't seem to fit the scheme at all.

He groggily turned his head, wanting to look the other direction, before his gaze landed on his body. His eyes widened, letting out a soft sound of horrified surprise. All over his body, needles stuck out of his skin, thin yet all the more frightening. The bearded man turned to look at him, his eyes showing irate annoyance.

"I told you to relax."

"W-Where am I?" He turned his eyes to meet the man, now wide awake from shock. "Who are you? Why did you do this?"

"They're therapeutic needles. They're meant to calm and numb your muscles so you don't freak out when you wake up."

"I'm freaking out _now_!" The man sighed, his hands resting upon one another as he cocked his head at Jonathan. "I don't know where I am or why you're doing this, but I don't have anything you'd want that's even remotely valuable. I mean, I don't have anything on me, I'm naked- holy shit, I'm _naked_ -"

"I'll pull the needles out if you shut up." Silence flooded the room, and Jonathan only stared at the man with wide eyes, impatient yet complying. The bearded man gave a nod of satisfaction before turning around and grabbing a metal tray, setting it on a nearby cart and pulling it close. "If you don't move, you won't feel them when I take them out."

"And if I do?"

"It'll hurt like a bitch," Jonathan nodded, looking up at the overhead light as the man set to work. After a few minutes, he looked down to see that the man was correct; he had already pulled out at least tend needles in his right arm, and he hadn't felt a thing. His mind still swam with questions as to how that could be.

When the man had finished his right arm, he began to answer Jonathan's questions. "You're in the Temple of Umbris. One of the Prime Magician's closest servants brought you here under order."

"Why?"

"It is not my place to say," The man began set to pulling out the abundance of needles on his chest. Jonathan moved his right arm and immediately regretted it, a burning sensation flooding in from his torso. "I told you not to move. And you'll have your answers once you're summoned."

"What does that mean?"

"You ask too many questions. But for your information, you're gonna have a private audience with the Prime Magician."

"Who's that?"

"Our boss."

"He isn't my boss. _My_ boss is an asshole at a grocery store."

"Not in that way, you dumbass. Just think of him as a sort of king."

"Look, man, I studied the American Revolution, I know how these monarchy things go down-"

"Will you shut the _fuck up_?" Jonathan chuckled and gazed back at the ceiling, trying not to focus on what the man was doing. Looking around the room, he guessed he was some sort of doctor; there were bottles filled with unknown substances and herbs on the shelves, along with various pieces of raw equipment he couldn't identify. It was all so very strange...

"What's your name?" Jonathan asked him, looking down to see that the torso was nearly done. His arm had nearly gained back its sense of touch, and he took notice of just how soft the bed beneath him was.

The man took a moment to reply. "Luke."

"Are you a doctor, Luke?"

"Yes."

"Sweet." They went silent again, and Luke finished the torso to wheel the cart around the other side of the table and start his left arm. Jonathan let out a quivering sigh. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he didn't want to piss off Luke any more than he already had. In an environment as strange as this, and with how three-fourths of his body was completely immobile, angering his captors would be a grave mistake.

His _captors_.

"So, uh...where am I, exactly?"

"Asia."

"Asia?!" Luke sighed, half of the left arm complete. "How the hell did I get to Asia?!"

"Did Evan not explain-" Luke stopped, twirling one of the small needles in his hand. "Oh. Right."

"What? What is it?"

"Well," Luke continued his work, sighing again. It seemed like he did that a lot. "Since you didn't go through the portal when Evan asked you to, he slammed your head against a brick wall. He tends to do that- he's not a very patient person."

"This 'Evan' sounds like a real asshole."

"He can be, when you get on his nerves. I wouldn't recommend it. Though, if plans change, you won't really be seeing him much. He doesn't like to come out of the creek too often, with his meditation and all."

"What plans?" His eyes met Luke's before the man abruptly turned them back to the needles still poking out of his skin. Jonathan sighed and turned back to the ceiling when he received no answer.

They continued in silence, each needle bringing him closer to freedom. Once they had all been removed, Jonathan took his time sitting up while Luke left into a connecting door to retrieve a pile of folded clothing, since he currently wore nothing other than a towel around his hips. The doctor handed them to him, and he noticed just how soft the deep blue fabric was.

"Put these on. We've only got about," The doctor whipped out a phone from his robes, and Jonathan narrowed his eyes in confusion. Strangely, he hadn't expected this man to be up-to-date with technology, judging by just how little there was in the room. "Five minutes until your escort will arrive."

The man didn't give Jonathan a chance to respond as he left into the room he had emerged from, the door closing quietly as he went. Jonathan could only sit for a few moments and contemplate his options.

 _Asia_. There was _no use_ trying to escape...when he was in _Asia_.

He stood to his feet on numb legs, his head still pounding from the blow it had taken. He leaned against the table as he rid himself of the towel, then grabbing the clothes they had given him. Black trousers, a white undershirt, sandals, some socks, and a long, blue robe that looked awfully spiritual. How wonderful.

He had just finished tying the robe when the door opened once again, and a stranger stood where Luke should have been. He was tall with dark skin and a finely trimmed beard, his eyes piercing as they met Jonathan's. His voice was low and awfully smooth when he spoke. "The Prime Magician will see you now."

He could only stand there for a few moments before nodding, his steps shallow as he walked. The man waited patiently, motionless in the doorway. He stepped back to let Jonathan practically limp through before making his way ahead.

They walked slowly for what seemed like ten minutes, his ability to walk slowly returning as they continued down hall after hall. The corridors were made of light wood, the floor beneath his clothed feet polished to the point of light reflection. He took time to admire the paintings on the walls, each seeming anciently Asian.

They stopped in front of a pair of double doors, this one much different than the slide doors built with wood and thick parchment; these were sturdy and a deep brown, golden carvings embedded into them and swirling like currents. They glowed in the soft light of the lanterns hanging on every wall.

The man opened both the doors at once and stepped inside, Jonathan trailing close behind. The room they now stood in was massive; twirled around the large expanse of the room were stairs, the walls decked in full bookshelves, all in charming disarray. Ahead of them lie a large desk and other tables around it, mountains of papers and books surrounding and laying upon them. Before the desk came a rounded table with two large, cushioned chairs. In the clear back of the room, beneath a layer of the ramp, was a large, circular window overlooking the night sky. They must have been fairly far up.

"Hello, Mr. Voorhees," the sudden voice snapped him out of his dazed state, and his eyes turned to the table. The voice had come from the chair on the far side. He turned to his escort, the man only heading back towards the doors and shutting them softly behind. He made cautious steps towards the table, letting out a soft breath. "There is no need to be frightened. Come, sit."

He complied, the man taking form as he grew closer. He wore a white tailcoat with silver trimmings and a top hat to match, fitting his body elegantly. A matching vest with a suitable tie, along with tight, grey trousers and dress shoes. He had handsome features and a trimmed beard, his hair a dark brown. Resting against the table to the man's right was a long walking stick with a small, glistening orb at the tip. His eyes became transfixed on it before he came to his senses, taking a seat from across the man.

The man smiled at him, his blue eyes glistening in the warm, yellow light of the lanterns around the room. Jonathan rubbed his hands together nervously beneath the table. "I'm sure your head must be aching, Mr. Voorhees."

"Erm...yeah," The man nodded, his free hand lazily flying into the air as objects around them began to fly. A teacup and its little plate landed on the table gently in front of Jonathan, followed by a teapot that began to pour its contents from two feet within the air. He watched as the liquid steamed in his cup, the man in front of him whisking it away like a fly and disappearing behind his chair.

Jonathan was left in awe. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around the cup, making sure he wasn't still dreaming. This trick was simple, unlike the magician that had pulled in the alley some time ago (he really couldn't be sure when). "How did you do that?"

"Magic," The man replied, taking his own cup and having a sip. He said it like it was something everyone knew, like it was normal. Jonathan found himself bewildered even more so.

"I, uh...I guess you're the Prime Magician, then?"

"Ryan Theodoric, if you would. Now, listen," The man sat his cup down, clearing his throat and leaning back in his seat. To their right, a fireplace went ablaze and the lanterns dimmed, Jonathan nearly bounding from his seat while the magician remained still. "You are a very special man."

"I've heard that before..."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing." He replied blandly, taking the tea in his cup. If it was poisoned, oh well. He took a sip and nearly burned the roof of his mouth.

"Anyhow, you are here for a reason. You see, we've been looking for you for a very long time, now. Ever since the day you were born, we lost sight of you."

"What do you mean?"

"You were born, we got excited, and then you disappeared with one of my closest advisers. That day truly was not a pleasant one," The man took a sip of his tea, looking past Jonathan in thought. "I woke up and Ohm had chewed through my favorite socks. Then, I didn't have any more of my favorite tea leaves, and I was so distraught by noon that by the time I heard the news about you, I had to lay down for a while!"

"I don't...understand."

"You're the Chosen One, Mr. Voorhees," Jonathan's eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking slightly. "You know, the prophecy?"

"The what?"

"Oh my lord," The Prime Magician took another sip of his tea, sighing as his posture went slack. He hadn't expected such an...easygoing attitude for someone who was considered to be a 'king'. "You're an important man. The prophecy reads and has read for centuries: 'Thou who shed blood for the greater power will be rewarded with victory by the hand of God and Her Servant, a Knight among mortal men'. You know, the whole shuh-bang." The magician's hands moved to add emphasis, though his tone still sounded somewhat bored.

Jonathan shook his head, taking another sip of the tea. He tried to make sense of this man's words; what the hell was a 'Chosen One', and why was he God's servant? And why was god a chick?

"Listen, I've waited centuries for this meeting, so I need you to just roll with this," The magician leaned in close, his hands clasping over the table. Jonathan stayed still where he slouched in his chair. "You-" The man pointed finger guns to him. "Are the Chosen One. Your job, is to kick ass and take orders from the higher power."

"I can kick ass in Mario Kart, if that's what you're asking."

"No! Oh my lord, just listen. We brought you here for a reason!" Jonathan arched his eyebrow, and the magician let out another sigh. "Okay, how do I put this in a way you'll understand..." The man thought for a moment, his hands resting upon his mouth in a way that resembled praying. Then, he looked back at Jonathan, his voice solemn. "You're a wizard, Harry."

He stopped, setting his tea on the table. "I'm a what?"

"You're a magician! The Chosen One! You're gonna do spells, you're gonna thwart evil, and you're gonna get an affiliate to help you."

"How do you know I'm the Chosen One?" Jonathan retorted, his fingers tapping anxiously on the walls of his cup. "What's so damn special about me? You could have just kidnapped the wrong guy, stole some stranger from an alleyway."

"I'm not sure now is the time for explanations such as that. Just know that you are the Chosen One, and you're here for a reason."

"I feel like this is the Matrix. Is this the Matrix? Is this a simulation?" The magician's jaw clenched tight, and Jonathan apologized under his breath before slouching even further in his chair. "So, uh...what do I do, now?"

"Your tarot reading."

"My...tarot reading."

"Of course, everyone does it when they come of age. Though, you're, what, thirty years old? So it will be a bit easier for you to understand everything the cards tell you," The magician pulled off his top hat, setting it on the table.

"Hold old are people when they usually get their reading done?"

"Thirteen."

"...Oh."

The magician's hand delved into his top hat impossibly deep, the rim of it up to his shoulder as he dug into some void Jonathan couldn't see. He supposed it was another trick; after what he'd seen in the alley some time ago, he would believe everything he saw. At least, if he kept considering everything happening to be no more than a dream.

"Ah-" The magician pulled something out of the hat, an orange resting in his hand. "No, that's not my cards..." He mumbled a string of words under his breath before stopping, eyebrows furrowing. When he lifted his hand from the hat, a grey rabbit hung calmly by its neck in his hand. "Ohm! There you are! I haven't seen you in hours!"

He set the rabbit on the table where it remained still, chewing something in its mouth and gazing away somewhere unknown. Jonathan cocked his head at the sight.

"Ah, here we are," The magician pulled out a rectangular box bound by a leather string, sighing as he took his seat and placed the hat back on his head. He took the rabbit by the neck once again and set it on his lap, unbinding the leather casing and letting a stack of cards slide into his hand. He tossed the case somewhere behind him carelessly and ran his hand through the rabbit's fur before placing the neat stack to Jonathan's right, sliding the cards until they formed an elegant arch on the surface of the table, their faces flipped out of sight. He studied the details of their backs as the magician explained.

"Pick one. They will all feel a bit cold, until you come across the card you're being ordered to choose. That one will feel rather warm- and if you wait to choose it, it will only grow hotter."

"Who's ordering me, exactly?"

"Have we not been over this? The Great Goddess, Umbris! The Holy Lord!"

"Okay, okay..." He placed his hand half a foot above the card furthest to the right, and the magician leaned back in his seat while shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Lower." He complied, his hand dropping an inch or two as he looked back to the magician with a curious eye. The man only repeated his previous action. "A bit lower." His hand dropped again, and he felt the icy aura of the cards all too soon for his liking. "Not that low. You'll turn your hand into an ice cube."

"Cool. I like that guy."

"Who?"

"No one, no one..." His hand raised and the magician remained silent, so he took it as his signal to move. His hand gently glided over the cards, their cold aura sending shivers down his spine. The magician waited patiently, his head resting on one of his fists while the other gently stroked the rabbit on his lap. Jonathan's hand suddenly felt like the inside of an oven when he rested it above a card exactly like the others, and he resisted the urge to pull it away.

"Flip it. Quickly, before it feels like a volcano." He complied, all heat vanishing as his fingertips touched the smooth surface of the card. He flipped it over, seeing unfamiliar designs of swords on its face. His eyes narrowed in confusion as the magician gathered the rest of the cards in one swift motion. "Put it face up on the table."

He complied, his hands moving back to rest on his lap. Quite strangely, the magician then decided to throw the cards suddenly into the air as if it was their case he had also thrown not moments ago. Only, this time, the cards began to float, hovering around them in the air.

While some cards began to form a neat pile by the magician's side, others arranged themselves into a formation near the card he had put down, still flipped over as they had been before. He let out a shaky breath. "I still don't understand how you do that."

"I'm not."

"What?"

"I don't control the cards, Umbris does. I just told you this."

"That's...not possible."

"Well, I'm not the one who decides your fate, am I?" The cards stopped moving, laid perfectly on the table. "I'm only her messenger. Although, that tea stunt earlier was me. I was just too lazy to pour it myself."

"Ah. Gotcha."

The magician sighed and sat straight up, adjusting the rabbit on his lap to a more comfortable position. "Alright. That card you just got is Eight of Swords, not a very good card to start out with but exactly what I suspected."

"What does it mean?" Jonathan's chest tightened nervously.

"It means you're feeling powerless, trapped. Your first card is always your current situation. Now, listen carefully, Mr. Voorhees," The man leaned in close, pointing an ominous finger at Jonathan. "I'm not gonna make you explain any of these cards- just know that, whatever we learn here, it stays between us, from either side of this table."

"So...you're gonna know everything about me just by looking at these cards?"

"Is that scary?"

"Kinda, I gotta admit. It's chill, though," The magician sighed, shaking his head. "Can I flip the next one?"

When the man nodded, he flipped the card resting horizontally over top of his first, seeing a sideways image of two sticks that definitely weren't more swords. "Two of Wands. The card in this position usually tells you what's either helping you or holding you back, and in this case, it seems to be your own thoughts and bewilderment keeping you planted firmly on the ground. Am I wrong?"

Jonathan hesitated before replying with an agreeing nod. He had never been one to spill his feelings to other people, especially strangers. There had never really been anyone to talk to, in the first place. Still, he flipped the next card, the one resided directly to the right.

"Ooh...that's interesting."

"What is?"

The magician smirked. "This card represents what you truly desire but what you are unaware of- and in this case, it's either a lover, or a bed partner." He looked at the card, studying the image. He considered it, never having thought much of it before, and felt his mind spin with sudden realizations. Damn, this magician was _good_. "Anyhoo, next card."

He complied, his hand moving to flip another before the magician nearly swatted it, pointing to the card directly lower of the first two. He let out a shaky breath as he flipped it over. "Oh...Page of Swords."

"What does it mean?"

"Well," The magician cleared his throat, sitting back in his chair. "This card's position typically relates to past events, sometimes that still haunt you. Some kids get reminders of dead parents, some kids get reminders of lost teddy bears, but you...this card tells me that you used to be quite the greaser."

Jonathan's eyes transfixed on the card as his mind wandered off, memories flooding back to his brain. Late nights of drinking, others of sneaking into stores in the dead of night and smuggling games and booze. He had been young with little guidance, but that was no excuse to get him out of a year in prison.

The magician seemed to notice his state of solemn discomfort and cleared his throat, gesturing to the cards. "Flip the highest card." He nodded and complied, his hand shaking slightly as he turned over the next tarot card. He set it down gently on the table and leaned back in his seat.

The magician hummed. "This card position deals with the desires you are more aware of. Now, the Chariot," He gestured to the card. "Typically means movement and progression. From what I know of your current state, I'd say this means you would like to move past it, yes?"

"Yeah."

The magician didn't reply directly, only continuing to pet the rabbit in his lap. "The next card is left of the first couple." He barely even glanced at the card when he flipped it, his eyes floating elsewhere around the room. He was still unable to shake the resurfaced memories caused by that Page of Swords card.

"What is it?"

"You've been given the Sun," His eyes landed back on the cards. "Which is in a position that indicates the path you are tracing. You are attempting to find happiness and succession beyond your current state, yes?"

"You're right," Jonathan told him, his breath quivered even more so than before. He swore, this man could read his mind. "You're absolutely right."

"Wonderful. Now, if you would please, select the lowest card of the four to your right," His eyes flew to the cards lined vertically next to the others forming a diamond, and paused. This man had uncovered his entire life story in just six cards. What kinds of things would he be able to uncover with four more?

It took him a moment but responded accordingly, flipping the said card and rubbing his hands together nervously beneath the table. The magician hummed again. "This card represents your attitude. With the King of Cups shown here...well. You have very repressed feelings, and, um..."

"And what?" Jonathan asked him, his voice timid. The magician paused for a moment, his face turning serious.

"Do you have an alcohol problem, Mr. Voorhees?"

He froze in his seat. Jonathan nearly bottled over, but kept himself from spilling. The way this man thought he could just set every little thing about him on the table was infuriating; even if he told the truth, the magician would already know, wouldn't he? And why was Jonathan just letting him do it? Shouldn't he speak up? So why couldn't he bring himself to do it?

"Mr. Voorhees." He was snapped out of his thoughts, his hands painfully tight with their grip on the arms of his chair. He loosened them, the whiteness in his knuckles slowly flying elsewhere as he flipped the next card. The magician didn't stop him, only tapping his fingers gently on his rabbit. "Three more cards, Mr. Voorhees. Then, I will let you rest."

Jonathan paused for a moment, shaking his head as he looked down at his hands. His chest tightened as he felt tears welling at his eyes. "I want to go home."

The magician sighed. "You know I can't let you do that, Mr. Voorhees-"

"My name is Jonathan. Stop fucking _calling_ me 'Mr. Voorhees'." The room went deathly still, and even more so silent. He clenched his hands in fists on his lap, trying to gather his senses. The magician sat up straight, adjusting the rabbit once again. He couldn't even remember what that damn rabbit's name was. Something stupid, he bet. Stupid, like the idiot sitting across from him.

"Five of Wands," The magician told him softly, as if he were a caged, feral animal. "You're getting bad vibes from the people around you. They're holding you back from the happiness you strive for."

They sat in an awkward silence before Jonathan flipped the next card hastily, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering like a child. "Erm...Seven of Swords."

"What does it mean?" Jonathan asked, refusing to look the magician in the eye.

"Well...I don't know." He took a moment to process the magician's words, his head lifting with a glare. "Well, I know what the card means, I just don't know how it would fit into this situation."

"What does it mean?" He urged.

The magician let out a hefty sigh, rubbing his eyes. "The position indicates what you should be aware of in your current situation, something that you shouldn't neglect. Seven of Swords, well...it goes hand-in-hand with secrets. Undisclosed plans, betrayal," The magician glanced at him. "You wouldn't happen to already know anyone who would commit such acts, do you?"

"I don't know many people, so I wouldn't say I do." The magician hummed and gestured to the last card. Jonathan wasn't sure he wanted to unveil it; the previous card had shaken him with worry. Still, he complied, his eyes landing on the image.

The Hanged Man.

He went still, his body then wracking with fear as he sat back in his seat. His eyes never left the card as he ran a hand down his face. Somehow, his chest had grown even tighter, and his heart may as well have stopped beating.

"Jonathan," The magician reached over the table, resting the back of his open hand on the cool surface in a beckoning gesture. His eyes darted to it and then back to the man before him, the breaths in his throat becoming uneven. "Calm down, Jonathan. The card does not mean what you believe it to."

"I'm," He choked out, shaking his head. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"No, there's a separate card for that- just take my hand, Jonathan. Calm down." He took into consideration how perturbed the magician seemed about the way he responded to the card, yet managed to remain calm. His voice was soft like velvet when he spoke, soothing yet all the more irritating. Still, he placed his shake-ridden hand in the magician's, the soft warmth of his skin nearly frightening.

"The Hanged Man does not mean death," He began. "The position of this card indicates your future, your final outcome. The Hanged Man typically means new perspectives or a sense of enlightenment. I cannot be certain how exactly this card will play into your fate, but I reckon it will be for better rather than the worse."

Jonathan nodded, taking the information in as best as his spinning mind would allow. He tried to process all of the cards he had received; he had a shitty past, someone was lying or _would_ lie to him, and he would be enlightened about something or another in the future. He wasn't sure the entire train of emotions he had been hit by wasn't worth knowing his vaguely-taught fate.

"I made a promise," The magician told him, and he raised his head as the bearded man sat back in his chair, adjusting the rabbit on his lap again. "It is time you are rewarded with well-deserved sleep. My assistant is waiting just outside the doors; he will take you to your new room."

He took that as his cue to leave, standing on shaking legs as the chilled temperature of the wooden floor beneath his feet began to sink into his socks. He made his way silently towards the door until the magician stopped him. "A word of advice," He turned back to the seats where the magician now stood, his rabbit resting contently in his arms. "Those who cannot see the light have already been blinded by their own eyes. I trust you will keep yours open."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent three fucking weeks studying tarot cards for this shit, and now im into all that spiritual shit, fUCK


	3. Behind the Sea

For a man waking up in an unknown place, Jonathan was surely serene about the room the magicians had placed him in.

The bed beneath him felt like clouds, the air smelling of sweet honey and flower blossoms. His mind was a haze after a dreamless sleep, and he had no intentions of moving from his position, until he remembered his current location.

Still, he sat up slowly, stretching as the light streaming in through the window hit his bare skin. Looking out, he saw nothing but the sky, and wondered just how high up his room was. He could hear the sound of streams and the crashing of a waterfall clear in the distance, far beyond the thin walls of his room. His sense of smell adjusted to the sheer purity of the air, far different than the thick bubble the city surrounded him in.

As strangely as the words ringed in his head, that was the first time, he felt peace.

He managed to wrangle himself out of bed, making his way towards the window. He placed a hand above his eyes as a fetal attempt to block the light, and found himself looking at a place resembling the Garden of Eden; all around him were vast mountains resting beneath the lush greens, waterfalls cascading from their caverns at every corner they held. The water spilled into a large stream running between the mountains and racing towards the hidden valleys below, while birds circled in a swiftly paced yet elegant rendezvous. Down the mountain, he could see the temple winding on every surface, seeming to glow in the light of the sun. They must have been thousands of meters up, and it was a mystery how he wasn't suffocating.

He marveled at the sight, trying to take it all in at once and finding himself dizzy with the sheer beauty of it all. He took a step away from the window, looking around the room. The wardrobe was open on the other side of the large bed, multiple robes hanging inside while trousers and undershirts were folded neatly beneath. He trudged over and opened one of the two drawers beneath, finding an abundance of socks, and discovered pairs of boxers in the next.

He slipped on the first pair of socks he saw and stood to his feet, his hand running along the soft wool of the robes. Most were dark, with deep hues of plum, pine, crimson and black, while a few were more bright with beige and a subtle shade of blue. He threw on a pair of trousers and was surprised at how well they fit him, and was impressed even further with the soft material of the shirt. The plum robe he then chose draped elegantly around him, making him seem less lanky than he truly was. He took a glance in the mirror beside the wardrobe and was utterly satisfied with his reflection.

He solemnly appreciated the hospitality of his new captors, if they could even be considered as such; their hocus-pocus prophecy was most likely a fable and he would probably end up upsetting them, but he surely would savor what they offered. After all, they had magically transported him to a place he had never even knew he had been yearning for. His previous definition of heaven was gaming, which he still felt the heavy want to do, but he could settle for this.

He crept out of the door to his room after sliding on the neat little sandals they had given him, the empty halls filled with the light streaming in from the glass-barren windows. Every other door was shut, not a single noise coming from any of their interiors. It threw him of a bit, but he still forced his feet to move.

When he blocked out the sounds coming from outside of the temple, he could hear the ones coming from within; somewhere, a stream was running, the gentle water fluttering through the corridors. He followed it as best as he could, finding himself lost in the halls but carrying on as he bounded step after step, stair after stair, one foot in front of the other.

He nearly passed the door when he found it. It led to a small clearing in the mountain, where a stream fell from the hills' cavern with a small patch of luscious green surrounding it.Birds chirped in the few trees scattered around, bright flowers of brilliant pinks and purples blossoming below their canopies. He awed at the site, stepping out of the doorway and onto the single step leading to solid ground. The the cliff's edge sat a man with dark skin, his back turned to Jonathan. He studied the man for a moment before a sudden voice piped up.

"Do you plan to stand there all day?" Jonathan was taken aback, shaking his head before realizing the man couldn't see it. Still, he took a few steps forward, the grass poking through his socks and sending a ticklish feeling to his feet.

"Who are you?" Jonathan asked him, stopping some three meters away. The man sighed, the hands that had previously rested on his thighs now falling loosely into his lap.

"I'm the guy that nailed your head into a wall, and I'm trying to meditate- so either join me or find someone else to bother." Jonathan's mouth formed an 'o' in realization, nodding. He had nothing better to do, he assumed, and found himself sitting on the ground next to the man, letting out a sigh. He turned his head to face the magician, only to find he had already gone back to meditating.

He tapped his fingers against his thighs. "So, uh...where are we?"

"Asia."

"Just...Asia?"

"Well, I don't know the damn coordinates, just how to use a portal to get here." This man seemed just as stressed as the other guy he'd met in the 'infirmary'. Cool.

"How do you do that? Make a portal, I mean."

"A portal spell. That should be fairly obvious."

"Well, I'm not a damn magician like you fancy bastards here."

"You've been a magician since the day you were born. You were just lost," Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. The Prime Magician had said the same thing; when had he ever been lost? He had always been in the same place. They could have easily found him if they wanted to. If they could make portals, shouldn't they have some freaky spell to track people down? Now that he thought about it, that actually sounded terrifying.

"I wasn't lost. I don't even know why you people would spend your time looking for me- I'm not special."

"Oh, you certainly are." The man replied sarcastically, and Jonathan scoffed. "Believe me, if I had the option to pick any Chosen One by random, you would be the last on my list."

"That's very comforting."

"I'm glad to hear that." The air went quiet for a brief moment until a loud screech was heard, and Jonathan's heart nearly burst out of his chest in surprise as an owl landed between them. It was the same owl from the alleyway- an 'affiliate', he had gathered. He supposed magicians had a deep bond with them. "Hello, Vanoss..." The man took the owl onto his wrist and stroked its feathers, in which the bird responded happily with light chirping noise, its large, golden eyes focused on Jonathan in a strangely frightening manner.

"'Vanoss' is kind of a weird name."

"It is rarely used, but has deeper meanings relating to stealth and agility, which are two things Vanoss has shown time and time again." Jonathan admired how proud of the owl the magician was; he had never doubted the connection between man and animal, but seeing it right before his eyes made him feel somewhat content. He remembered the dog that had always come by the orphanage, and how he had always fed it half of his lunch, even if that meant having to run on minimal fuel. He was sure that was the closest thing he had to a friend, in that day and age.

"That move you pulled in the alleyway, with Vanoss," Jonathan piped up. "How did you do it?"

"It is a very advanced form of combat," The magician told him. "Without proper training, using that spell with an affiliate can harm or kill both bodies involved in the process." Jonathan nodded, a chill making its way down his spine. When he had first heard the words 'magician' and 'spells', he thought it would all be simple, but he found himself having second thoughts about the ordeal.

"I guess you have a lot of training, then," Jonathan implied, and the magician hummed.

"I was trained by the Prime Magician himself," Jonathan turned to him with a bewildered expression. "He has had plans of myself being his successor."

"Why you?" He asked him, not quite intending to be rude.

"Because my family is of strong blood, and I didn't have any other teacher," The man turned to him, extending a hand over the owl that rested calmly between them. Jonathan returned the gesture with a firm shake, though it was slightly awkward due to the use of their non-dominant hands. "My name is Evan. I'm going to be your teacher in the magicians' arts."

"Jonathan Voorhees. I was expecting someone a lot older, you know, all wise and stuff. Or the Prime Magician himself, since y'all think I'm so important."

"I'm twenty-nine, and the Prime Magician rarely gives out any favors despite guidance and counsel. It was a true honor for him to have even considered teaching me, in the first place." Jonathan's eyes wandered far out into the distance, where the bright colors of the rising sun faded into the familiar blue of the sky as the morning dragged onward. He took Evan's words into consideration.

"Why am I here?" He asked under his breath, hardly even aware he had spoken it aloud. Despite it being rhetorical, the magician sat next to him had an answer.

"Because you are different," Evan told him. "Blessed by Umbris. She has been waiting to make her next move for a very long time, and now that you are here, she is expecting the world from you."

"But _why_?" He repeated, running a hand through his hair.

" _Why_ does not matter, only how, and when. She decides our fate, and it is our duty to accept what we are given. She has paved your path, and now you must walk it." Jonathan's head was spinning with the weight of it all; the religion he had been forced to swallow since he was a child was now nothing but a fable, and had been replaced with some goddess they called Umbris, who had already decided his inevitable fate. Even if it wasn't true, these people were set on keeping him where he resided.

"So...what am I supposed to do?" Jonathan asked after moments of thoughtful silence.

"You are expected to thwart the evil that resides in a group called the Coven. They've been around for centuries, and they're extremely powerful, though it's doubtful to say that they have more over us than we to them," Jonathan nodded, though he wasn't quite understanding the words he was hearing. "The man in charge of it all- the Horseman, we call him- he believes himself to be the Chosen One, and will stop for nothing until he has established complete dominance over both magician and mortal man."

"Did he send those guys that chased me, earlier?"

"Yes. He must have thought you would be an easy catch, since he sent a couple of _moosetwits_ to capture you. Luckily, I had already been following them." Jonathan snorted at the choice of vulgar language.

"Is that just a thing you do? Hunt down the Horseman's subjects and kill them with your supersonic-owl-themed-megablast?"

"Please, don't call it that." Evan cringed, and Jonathan chuckled. "But yes, we like to eliminate as many as possible. The Coven has even more followers than the entire population of the Temple, since they believe what the Horseman spouts about himself being the Chosen One. They all prefer to take the easy route and settle for a man who has never even proved his worthiness."

"So I have to kill a guy that thinks he's me?"

"That's what I implied, yes," Evan stood to his feet, Vanoss leaping from the ground and fluttering to his master's shoulder. Jonathan stood, though slower. "Now, I do believe it is time we head to the dining hall. I think we're having bacon, this morning."

Jonathan followed Evan through the halls in silence, more people loitering about than they had before. The owl continued to make low, quiet noises as if he was trying to speak, but his master only continued to stroke his feathers as they walked.

The dining hall they now stood in was spacious, with six low, square tables on either side of the walkway and a longer table towards the very front of the room. People already sat around them, feasting on the abundance of food adorning the low surface, while animals of all kinds ran about and communicated with each other through their own noises.

Evan led him to a table where three men chatted in rather boisterous tones, and the way no one else in the room even batted an eye suggested to Jonathan that they were like this normally. The magician sat he and himself on the empty side, forcing them to sit closer than Jonathan thought comfortable. He was just glad that the pillow they sat upon was long enough for both of them.

"Good morning, boys," Evan greeted, Vanoss jumping from his arm and landing on the table. He chirped at a monkey that snacked on lettuce, and the mammal responded accordingly. "This is Jonathan Voorhees."

"You're the Chosen One?" The man across from them inquired, and Jonathan took notice to the three large, stripped wolves behind him. Were they even wolves? Upon further inspection, they resembled tigers, with their large teeth and the dark stripes on their backs. But their tails and necks were heavily coated in thick, fluffy fur, and their eyes were far too dark. He found the way they watched him to be utterly terrifying.

"Uh...I guess. That's what y'all keep telling me."

"Heh. Y'all." The man with dark skin snickered, smiling as he cut into his eggs. The monkey that had been previously eating now climbed onto the man's shoulders and sat itself on his head.

"Jonathan, this is Marcel and his monkey, Daisy," Evan gestured to the man to their right, who in turn flashed a smile to them before piling eggs into his mouth. The magician then put his focus on the other across the table. "This is Tyler. He has three wolf-tiger breeds and is a second-tier magician, so don't fuck with him."

Jonathan didn't quite understand what that meant for him, but he nodded, anyway. "I can do that."

"Good. And this is Craig, who has been awfully quiet this morning." His attention turned to the man on their left who tapped away at his phone, his plate barren of food. Jonathan noticed how he didn't have an affiliate like the other two.

"Tumblr," The man responded. "I've got a lot going on."

"There's _already_ a lot going on," Marcel retorted, stabbing his fork into the salad bowl and throwing the leaves onto Craig's plate. "We just found the Chosen One and all you wanna do is look at shitty memes."

The two bickered back and forth while Tyler busied himself with his affiliates, cutting up large slabs of bloody, raw meat and dividing it evenly among three plates before setting each in front of them. Jonathan cocked his head to get a better view of them.

"What are their names?" Jonathan asked the man, and Tyler turned back with a curious expression before gathering food for himself. Next to him, Evan was already feasting on the bacon he had retrieved from the stash in the center of the table. He decided to do the same, seeming as his stomach was beginning to feel like a black hole with his hunger.

"Archie, Chief and Kino." The response was blunt but Jonathan couldn't mind in the least; as he studied the creatures, he began to notice how tranquil they sat, resembling that of normal dogs- just a bit weird-looking. Still, he couldn't deny their beauty; he had never seen anything quite like them.

"When does his training start?" Craig had set down his phone and began working to fill his plate, his interest set on Jonathan.

"Soon, exceptionally so. We need him to be fully prepared for battle when it comes."

"Battle?" Jonathan inquired, his fork halfway towards his mouth with a small portion of his eggs impaled at the end.

"I have already explained your significance," Evan told him in a matter-of-fact tone. "Did you not consider that you would have to fight the Horseman's servants as well as he?"

"I did, it's just...uh..."

"A strange way to put it." Marcel put the unspoken words into his mouth, now wiping his hands with a napkin. Across the table, one of Tyler's affiliates was now by his side and whining, in which the man mumbled something under his breath. He wondered if affiliates could understand magicians.

"Yeah...that."

"I think I'm gonna need a couple days to prepare," Craig admitted. "Object manipulation isn't something easily taught to others."

"Wait, you're my teacher, too?" Jonathan asked, and Craig cocked a brow.

"Did you think I wasn't?"

"Craig, Tyler and Marcel will teach you what they specialize in," Evan informed him. "I'll teach you spells, rituals, martial arts and the sorts- the basic education. But it's extremely important that you're able to accomplish the more advanced techniques and, since you're the Chosen One, you could probably master everything with time and practice."

"So I'm kinda like the Avatar?" Jonathan inquired. "You know, I can bend all the elements while everyone else can only do jack-shit?"

Evan sighed, tearing a piece of bacon from the strip. "Yes," He droned. "You're kinda like the Avatar," Marcel snickered again, his hand reaching up to offer Daisy another piece of lettuce. "That doesn't matter. Just know that Craig is gonna teach you object manipulation, Marcel will teach you about mortal weaponry and Tyler will educate you on affiliates."

"Uh-huh. Now, uh," Jonathan polished off his eggs, now reaching for bacon. "Mind explaining what all of that means?"

Across the table, Tyler sighed, tossing back another piece of bacon for one of his affiliates. "Evan, I seriously doubt this is the guy we're looking for."

"Yeah, I doubt it, too, but he's the Chosen One. You can see those eyes, can't you?" The man leaned in, and Jonathan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes were studied all too close for his liking. Even more strange, the other two did the same, their faces a mere foot away from his.

Tyler sat down properly, picking up his fork. "I can see it, yeah."

"See what?" Jonathan asked them as they all settled, but he received no reply. He was about to ask again but, sadly, Evan was already answering his previous question.

"Object manipulation sounds simple but is actually pretty complicated; you're not just moving objects with your mind, you're synchronizing with them and breaking mental ties without fucking up your entire head when you've successfully moved it," Jonathan winced. His head was already fucked just from being there. He wasn't sure he would be able to do it. "Luckily, you have Craig teaching you, so it should be a little less aggravating."

"Sounds fun," Jonathan droned sarcastically.

"It sure is, trust me. Anyway," Evan tossed a small piece of lettuce into Vanoss' mouth, petting the feathers on his head. "Marcel knows more about physical weaponry than anyone else in the Temples. You're not gonna find a better teacher."

"What's the point of weapons if you already have magic?" Jonathan polished off the small plate he had gathered for himself, not sure he wanted to eat any more than a few eggs and some bacon. It was exceptionally decent compared to the food he ate at home, but he still felt queasy about it all.

"I don't think you understand how much magic drains you," Tyler pointed out. "There's only so much you can use at once. For some, magic is sparse, so they take an alternative route and switch to weaponry with battle and save their magic for spells."

Jonathan nodded, turning to Marcel. "How do you know so much about it? Weaponry, I mean?"

"My mom's a hunter. She taught me to hold a bow when I was five- everything else, I trained myself to do." Jonathan looked around the room, nodding. He began to notice the severe lack of women- there wasn't a single one floating around. It was mildly concerning.

"Where are all the women, again?" He asked them, and Evan set down his fork as he finished his plate.

"There aren't any female magicians," He told him, and Jonathan gave him a look resembling both bewilderment and annoyance. "Hasn't been one for years."

"If a woman belongs to the Temple, she is considered a nun, and is a direct descendant of Umbris." Tyler told him, and Craig picked up his phone, again. "They live in an undisclosed temple, and they're forbidden from even looking at a man in their lifetimes, unless they become a Lord."

"Then how do they...erm...make babies?"

"Umbris gets them pregnant." Craig seemed unfazed by his own words, scrolling down his phone. Meanwhile, Jonathan was having the most difficult time understanding how that would even work.

"We as men are unholy while they remain pure," Evan continued. "It would be a sin to even think of ourselves on their level of authority and power."

"Sweet, so it's kinda like Wonder Woman?"

"Can you stop making movie references?" Evan retorted, and Jonathan snickered. Still, the magician continued. "They belong to the House of Umbris. We're in the House of Commons, which is the tier below that, and they sit with the House of Lords, which has nearly equal power."

"What's the House of Lords?"

"if you shut up, I'll get there," Jonathan snickered again. "The Lords are the highest power, next to the Nuns and the Gods, who hold the prime authority. Simply put- if you're really smart and powerful by the time you're old, they'll offer you a spot with the rest of the Lords, and you can make laws and practice magic that's illegal to us Commons. The Prime Magician is technically a Lord, though he's only stepped foot in that temple a few times."

"Why?"

"Because the power he earned was inherited. He was chosen by the previous Prime Magician and served as his apprentice until he died. And with a title like that, he barely has any time to leave this temple, anyway, and he really only needs to leave for serious emergencies."

"Tyler was actually offered an apprenticeship from one of the Lords," Craig told him, still scrolling through his phone. Jonathan wondered how he could do that while actively listening to the conversation. "But he was a little bitch, and ultimately turned it down."

"I don't wanna be a Lord," Tyler responded. "I don't wanna sit around in a dusty temple with a bunch of old guys and do nothing but fancy, forbidden magic all day. They showed me where they live, and they don't even have Skittles."

"Shame," Jonathan told him. "Damn shame. Now, uh," He positioned himself more comfortably on the pillow. "How exactly am I supposed to defeat this Horseman guy?"

The table went silent, and they all just looked at him for a few moments. It made him slightly uncomfortable. Luckily, Marcel spoke up. "We don't know, man. That's _your_ problem."

"Then why the hell am I here?"

"So that you can do it."

"Do _what_?"

"Exactly!"

"Boys," Evan intervened. "Calm down. The first steps to achieving your goal is supplying you with everything you'll need. So, later today, we'll go into the city and buy you everything you'll need for your spells and rituals, and then, you can adopt an affiliate."

"Can I get a horse? Then, it'll be really ironic because, you know, he's the Horseman-"

"Yeah, we get it," Evan interrupted, standing to his feet. "Breakfast is ending soon, and I must return to meditating. We will leave in an hour, and Jonathan-" The magician told him, Vanoss flying to land on his shoulder. "Please, don't wander around the temple."

Evan took his leave, his robes bellowing behind him as he went. The other's sat still, watching along with Jonathan, no particular interest ringing in their eyes. Craig leaned over, "He's always dramatic. Don't pay any mind to it."

"Wasn't planning on it-" Jonathan stood to his feet, his bones cracking as he stretched. He sighed, his hands falling on his hips. "So, uh, can someone show me where my room is, again?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all updates will now take place on Sunday (probably leaning more towards the afternoon). im in the central timezone, if that helps. and this chapter was basically just an explanation. more shit is gonna happen, i promise.


	4. Avond

Like _hell_ Jonathan was going to stay in his room.

Not even five minutes after Craig had showed him back to his room, he had already grown entirely bored of his surroundings. There wasn't a single entertaining thing in his room; sleeping was always an option, but he was wide awake. If the books had been more about adventures or aliens instead of boring tales from history, he would have read a few to pass the time. Or maybe, if the view of the mountains was quite as beautiful as it had been in the morning, he would have pulled over the chair from the corner and remained there until Evan came to fetch him.

So, he did what any other daring man would do and lifted himself from the armchair placed neatly by the bookshelf, slipping on the sandals again and sliding the door shut behind him. He looked both ways, debating which direction he should travel in first. He had gone to the right, previously, which seemed to lead to destinations down the mountain, while the more preserved areas within the mountains were to his left. He assumed more people would be present in the latter, and found himself walking in the direction he had traveled in not even two hours ago.

Jonathan's steps were slower, now, no waterfalls to beckon him to the cliff-side. He let the sounds of nature from beyond the temple walls flow into his ears, nothing but the relaxing melody of birds and mountain streams. His eyes wandered, caught every now and then by the ancient relics and paintings displayed in every corridor. He thanked the people who had built the temple for placing it in such a strikingly resplendent location.

He stumbled upon a door which led out to another cliff-side different from the one he had chased earlier; here, there was a picket fence bordering the carved, circular opening of the mountain. The room they played in was lit by golden, glowing lanterns hanging from the stone ceilings. Little boys ran and pranced about the lush yard, kicking a ball back and forth. He felt the melancholic nostalgia hit him like an ocean wave; he had never played with the other boys at the orphanage. They didn't quite like Jonathan enough to let him.

"They're cute, aren't they?" Jonathan turned his head from where he leaned against the doorway, seeing a shorter man in a crimson robe standing by his side. On his shoulder rested a monkey with much darker fur than the affiliate Marcel sported, this one also bearing eyes of a smaller size, if only slightly.

Jonathan sighed, looking back to the children. He nodded in agreement. "They look like they're having a lot of fun."

"That one, in the red robe," The man pointed to a small boy, no more than the age of eight, with a robe much brighter than the man who stood next to him. Jonathan smiled; he was adorable. "That one's mine."

Jonathan leaned off the wall, standing straight as he held out a hand. The man responded accordingly. "Jonathan Voorhees."

"So I've heard," He teased in reply. "Lui Calibre. It's an honor."

"How so?" Jonathan asked him, his eyes wandering back to the children.

"You're the Chosen One," Lui replied. He was getting a bit tired of that name, and oddly more bewildered every time he heard it. "You're a pretty important guy."

"So I've heard." His statement tore a few chuckles out of the two of them, one of the first genuine smiles he had given since he'd arrived. It felt nice to be able to grin, again- he never had many chances, back home.

"I hear Evan is taking you into the city, soon?" Lui inquired. Jonathan hummed.

"Yeah, something about buying stuff for spells. He said I'm gonna get an affiliate, too-"

"Jonathan," He leaned off the wall, spinning around and seeing Marcel rushing to his side. He had ditched his robes for a more threatening appearance rather than an elegant effect; a tight, sleeveless top of black leather with an exaggerated collar, giving light to his well-toned muscles and the tattoos decorating them. He had pants of a similar fashion, along with combat boots that stretched nearly to his knee. On his back resided a quiver decked with so many arrows it seemed impossible to grab one without grabbing the next, and around his waist was a heavily-seeming belt with compartments holding undisclosed items, along with a strange, polished stick. He grasped an elegantly carved bow in his gloved hands, deadly yet stunning.

Jonathan let out a slight sigh as Marcel neared. "We've been looking everywhere for you. It's nearly time to go and you aren't even in your damn room." He shrugged, and Lui clasped a hand on his shoulder. Jon turned to face him out of the corner of his eye.

"When you go to the tailor, say hi to the fine gentleman behind the counter, for me." Jon wasn't quite sure what that meant but nodded anyway, then proceeding to follow Marcel to...wherever he was taking him. He was actually getting a bit nervous; how angry would Evan be to see that Jonathan had left his room, despite his orders?

They made their way through even more unfamiliar corridors until the hallways grew darker, and the absence of windows began to throw him off. He could only assume they were heading even _deeper_ into the mountain. They could have ventured further, but Marcel had stopped at a door seeming just as finely detailed and ominous as the Prime Magician's had been. Jonathan nearly followed him inside before looking straight ahead to an even larger pair of doors, painted in a polished black with shimmering silver symbols embedded into it.

The magician turned back to face him. "Jonathan."

"Oh, sorry," He apologized, entering a large, stone room lit with flaming torches high above the ground. On the walls were more clouds like he had seen in the alleyway, though each had a different color. Portals, he remembered, they were _portals_.

Already present were Tyler, Evan, and Craig, each looking just as displeased as the next man (not counting Craig, who was, once again, on his phone. Evan wore the outfit he had seen in the alleyway; a large, feathered hat with Vanoss sitting atop of it, tight black pants and tall combat boots. His top looked almost like a corset with sleeves, a white shirt with a flared collar peaking from the layer above it. On his wrist was a glimmering silver watch, while a thin chain- the same hue, though duller- sunk into the v of his top. His cape, tragically dramatic, reached the floor and bellowed even when he stood still. Around his waist was a belt similar to Marcel's, though missing the daggers the other man bore.

Craig (who still wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings) had a much simpler look. A belt, yes, though with fewer items. He wore dress shoes and slim-fitting, grey pants with a matching vest of the same thin material, a white shirt beneath with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The first few buttons were undone, the collar flared (Jonathan was beginning to assume everyone had a taste for dramatic shirt collars).

Tyler was a lot taller (and more threatening) than he had first thought he'd be. He must have been at least 6'3, perhaps taller, with the three affiliates by his side looking all the more terrifying. On his shoulders resided an eggplant-shaded cloak with gold designs of leaves, the ends and the collar thick with dark grey fur. Beneath that, his outfit was much similar to Evan's, though his didn't dip quite as deep towards the top of his chest.

"Did I not instruct you to stay in your room until I fetched you?" Marcel trudged off to the side, Daisy jumping from Craig's head and instead climbing the other man to sit upon his. Jonathan looked down at his feet. "You may be the Chosen One, but there are places in this temple that even you are not allowed to venture- and the Prime Magician does not forgive easily."

"I gathered," Jonathan answered, and Evan scoffed before turning around and heading towards an empty patch of wall. He was left with a sickly feeling in his stomach, not sure what to do with his hands nor his feet. He wasn't sure he liked being belittled by the magician.

Evan set to work with opening another portal, mumbling more strange words under his breath as the red clouds once again emitted from his gloved hands and began to form an oval shape on the wall. Once he had completed the task, he turned back to Jonathan. "Will you walk through, this time?"

He didn't reply, only stepping forward. Craig stuffed his phone into his pocket and sighed, swiftly moving ahead of him. Before he went through, he turned to Jonathan. "Don't think about it- just go."

Craig stepped through the portal, and although he knew what to expect, he was still dumbfounded by the sight. He hesitated once more before approaching. He turned back to Evan, who was still looking as irritated as he had been when Jonathan had entered the room. He decided not to think too much of it.

He reached his hand into the portal, swallowing nervously in his throat when it went through. On the other side, he felt air as sharp as knives, though not as cold as an untouched blade. He let out another quivered sigh before closing his eyes, stepping through.

When he opened his eyes again, Craig was standing in front of him, hands stuffed in his pockets with unfamiliar city streets beyond the alleyway behind him. It took him a few moments to comprehend the situation; perhaps, if he had listened to Evan before, he wouldn't be so awestruck by walking through a portal.

Behind him, Marcel emerged from the portal unfazed with his monkey in tow, twirling the bow in his hands. He stepped to the side as Tyler entered the alleyway, his affiliates jumping out one by one like circus lions. Jonathan found it rather charming.

Evan, still displeased, walked through last with stiff shoulders and a bellowing cloak. Not even five seconds out of the portal and the magician was already approaching him, whipping out a stick similar to the one Marcel bore and setting the dull yet thin tip in the center of his forehead. "Invisibilitatem clypeus." Though his words were clear, Jonathan didn't have a clue as to what they meant, and found himself confused _even more still_.

It took a short few moments, but when he began to feel a strange, tingling sensation in his fingertips, he knew Evan had just cast some sort of spell. His eyebrows furrowed as the magician stepped back, sliding the object back into his belt.

"What did you just do to me?" The sensation spread up his arms and throughout the rest of his body before fading, and it was almost as if he hadn't experienced it in the first place. He clenched his fists out of curiosity, but the feeling ceased to return.

"It's an invisibility spell," Evan stated. "You're now cloaked from the mortal eye, still visible to the mage."

"Why would I need that?"

"I don't think you get the full picture," Tyler told him, stepping forward. It was exceedingly intimidating to be stared down by a man of his height and authority. "I'm wearing a fucking cape. Mortals don't really see that as normal, like we magicians do."

"Can I get a fancy cape, too?" Jonathan questioned, resisting the urge to run his hands along the fur residing on Tyler's cloak. "I've always wanted a cape, but my employers wouldn't take too lightly to it,"

Tyler cracked a smile, the first he had seen from the man. "You're employers sound like a bunch of fucknuggets," Jonathan let out a breathy laugh as the magician turned him the opposite direction and patted him on the back, beckoning his affiliates along with a clicking sound from his mouth. "Let's go, dumbasses."

Tyler kept his hand on Jonathan's back as he led the group out of the alleyway, one of his affiliates circling around to the front while the other two walked on either side of the pair. Jonathan looked down at the wolf (tiger?) and reached out his hand as to pet it, but stopped himself. He wasn't sure how one came about stroking the fur of such an animal.

"Can I pet him?" Jonathan asked, looking up at Tyler. The magician led them out of the alleyway, making a subtle turn to the right.

Tyler didn't respond directly, opting to lean over to talk to his affiliate. "Archie, don't bite the nice man," The creature seemed to say something through a low growl, his eyes now less feral and more like a normal dog (or cat, he really couldn't tell). "He isn't Squeaker, he's not gonna glomp you."

"Who's Squeaker?" Jonathan asked, his hand cautiously reaching down to stroke the fur residing on the affiliate's nape. The animal tensed up before leaning into it. seeming to purr beneath his touch.

"Lui Jr.," Marcel spoke up from behind them, and Jonathan turned his head slightly to hear. "The son of the man you were talking to earlier."

"Why was he talking to Lui?" Craig asked in a voice so plainly monotone, once again looking down at his phone. Around them, the streets began to grow busier, and more people walked by. Though, it was strange; they acted as if they were invisible, yes, but they also avoided the path in which they trekked on.

"Am I not supposed to talk to him?"

"No, it's fine," Craig answered, stuffing his phone in his pocket. Tyler began to walk ahead, his affiliates following. He sped up his steps to keep up. "He just doesn't talk that much, anymore. He was a bit social when his husband still worked at the Temple."

"Where does his husband work now?" Jonathan questioned, and Craig came to walk by his side.

"He's a tailor. Always had a knack for fashion; it seemed that the previous tailor thought so, too, and decided to take him in as an apprentice right after he and Lui adopted a baby. He doesn't have many chances to visit since, you know, he's one of the only few magician tailors in the world."

"Tragic," Jonathan responded. He thought back to the short conversation he'd had with Lui. He had seemed nice, content. "He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who deserves that life. Practically raising a kid on his own..."

"We all throw in our few cents for the kids," Craig responded, his voice a bit more chipper. He must like talking about the children. "They've all got their own agendas with training, but when we aren't busy, we come down to spend their recess with them. Never imagined I would lose kickball to a ten year-old."

Jonathan laughed, a sharp breeze flying past them. He balled up his hands and tried to slide his arms a tad further up the sleeves of his robes, though Craig went ultimately unaffected by the cool weather. They fell into silence, and Jonathan dearly told himself to keep it that way, until he opened his mouth, again.

"Why don't you have an affiliate?" He asked him, and Craig's chipper mood seemed to die down, some. Jonathan immediately regretted asking; he'd already had his fair share of angry magicians. Soon, they'd probably start using physical abuse rather than words, if he kept up the act.

"It's a bit complicated," Craig responded, his voice quieter now. "You know I master in the mental manipulation of objects, but very rarely, I'll also use that ability on living creatures." Jonathan could already see where Craig was taking him. "Let's just say I was fed up, one night. Tried to use my power on one of the Horseman's henchmen, and transferred the blow to the wrong being."

"I'm sorry for asking." Jonathan apologized, but Craig shook his head.

"It's fine. I'm used to the questions, now." They continued to walk until Tyler led them into another alleyway, one just as barren as the last, with a single door at the end of its expanse. Next to him, Evan stalked past quickly, catching up to Tyler and speaking a few hushed words under his breath. Jonathan vaguely wondered what they were speaking about.

Tyler climbed the few steps to the door, and Craig turned back to Jonathan. "This door has the same spell cast upon it as you do; humans can't see it, but we can."

"Radical." He responded, and Craig let out an airy laugh. Jonathan smiled; he wouldn't forgive himself if he'd kept the magician in a fowl mood.

Tyler didn't bother to knock as he made his way through the door, Evan slipping in next and Craig following after. Jonathan was hit by the warm scent of vanilla sugar as he made his entrance, looking around at the warmly lit room. They now stood in a reception and waiting area, a few couches strung about with a single desk at the front of the room. On either side were doorways strung with a cascade of dark beads, and a candle burned on the coffee table between the sofas.

They had not been in the room ten seconds before a figure emerged from the doorway to their left, lanky and seeming just as tall as Tyler, if only an inch or two shorter. Evan approached, shaking the man's hand. "We're here for our appointment."

"I assumed as much," The man's accent was thick, and Jonathan assumed it was Irish. Still, the tailor gestured to him. "Are you sure this is the guy?"

Evan sighed. "We're sure."

The tailor went silent for a moment, approaching him curiously. He wore clothes resembling that of the rococo period, a fine, knee-length olive tailcoat embedded with gold designs of leaves and tight, matching slacks. Beneath that, he wore a pristine white button-up with a golden vest, his neck shielded with a cravat rather than a tie.

The tailor hummed. "He doesn't look like the Chosen One."

"A lot of people keep saying that." Jonathan informed him, weary under the man's gaze. Then, the tailor sighed, beckoning the man as he made his way back through the curtain of beads.

"Come along, then. I'm sure the five of you don't have much time on your hands." Jonathan wasn't sure what to do, but a subtle glare and the cock of a head from Evan was enough to get him through the doorway. Inside, he found a room with shelves on every wall, decked with fabrics of all styles and cloths. There was a standing mirror on a platform some ways to his right with a couch sat behind it, a large desk covered in various sewing equipment to the left. A chandelier with brightly lit candles sent a soft, golden glow upon the room, and the smell of warm vanilla sugar was a bit stronger where he now stood.

The tailor swiftly made his way to the desk and grabbed a portfolio, stuffing it in Jonathan's hands while he led him to the mirror. He glanced at himself briefly in his reflection. "Sift through that, find a style you like."

Upon opening the book, he was bombarded by images each looking somewhat similar, yet completely different. It seemed that each style complimented the next, and the more he flipped the pages, the more intrigued he became. The outfits were marvelous; capes, boots, hats, some things he could barely even identify, and they were fantastic- but he was sure it was just too much for him to wear.

"He was thinking of a cape," Evan spoke. "Do you suppose he could pull one off?"

"He very well could, though, not in the style of _your_ choosing, but..." The tailor responded. "Blue, maybe? To bring out his eyes?"

"Well, that's absurd, blue capes don't look good on anyone."

"Maybe not completely, but perhaps," The tailor approached him, gingerly taking the book from his hands. He flipped through the pages until he landed on one, pointing to an image. Evan approached his side, looking over the man's shoulder. Jonathan tried to look over the book but found that the man was too tall. "Just the inside?"

Evan took the book from his hands, then looking back to Jonathan. He knew he should feel uncomfortable with someone checking him out, even in that situation, but he found himself rather calm on the matter. "Maybe we can change the top, though," Evan pointed back to the book. "A bit more leather to compliment the cape."

"And some pants to go with it." The tailor finished, and Evan handed the book to Jonathan. He glanced at the picture they had been debating, his heart beginning to speed a bit more. It was simple yet perfect, with a near-floor-length cape embedded into the torso at the top of the arms. The inside of the cape was a shining silver while its outer was midnight black. The rest of the outfit was simple cloth, but he could imagine it being replaced with leather. "What do you think, sir? Is it reasonable?"

"It's perfect," Jonathan told him, smiling. "Just replace the cloth and I'm sold."

The tailor smirked, taking the book from his hands. He pulled out a wand, one a much lighter color than Evan's, and mumbled something under his breath while pointing to the page. Jonathan waited patiently for his spell to take place, looking to Evan for reassurance. The man didn't turn his head, not seeming to care.

The tailor seemed to pull a odd, green stream of glimmering light from the image, swirling on the end of his wand like a snake. He froze as the tailor tossed it in his direction, and in a matter of seconds, the clothing on his body became much tighter and heavier than he'd anticipated. His eyes closed, he tentatively reached to feel his torso, finding the material much different than the robes he was used to.

Upon opening his eyes, he could only awe at his reflection; it was exactly as the image in mind had entailed. The heeled boots were lined with soft fur on the insides. The only difference was the inner side of the cape; instead of a shimmering silver, it was now a glistening sapphire, bold and elegant. The entirety of the outfit suited his body so well and snug, and he was sure he'd never worn anything more breathtaking in his life.

"I don't usually do requests on command," The tailor began, but Jonathan was hardly listening. "I tend to do it by hand- but I'm sure you're in a hurry."

"Yeah..." Jonathan agreed, trying to get a look from every angle. "That I am..."

Evan grasped his shoulders and turned him as so they were face-to-face, and Vanoss jumped off of his hat as he lifted it from his head. The magician then set the accessory on Jonathan's, humming before shaking his head. "He doesn't need a hat. Just the belt will do."

"Heavy duty?"

"If you could," Jonathan pouted, watching as Evan placed the hat back on his own head. Vanoss returned to his rightful place upon it.

"I really wanted a hat."

"You don't look good in hats."

"That's not very nice."

"It's the harsh truth." Marcel made his way over to stand in front of them, eyeing Jonathan's new outfit. The man smiled.

"Lookin' good, Voorhees. I can see you kickin' ass in this," Craig and Tyler came to join, and Jonathan now felt uncomfortable with all the attention. He was grateful when Evan spoke up.

"How much do you want for the outfit?"

"Well," The tailor approached him, a thick belt held in his hands. Evan pulled back the cape while the other man circled around, now working on getting it strapped to his waist. "Like I said, I don't normally do clients like him. Since he's the Chosen One, it's on the house-" The belt clicked into place, and the tailor walked back around to his front, making sure it looked right. "But the next one certainly won't be."

They prepared to leave, heading back towards the door leading outside. The tailor followed behind, showing them out, but Jonathan stopped and turned to face him. "I almost forgot- Lui told me to say hi to the fine gentleman behind the counter."

The tailor let out a breathy laugh, and something inside of Jonathan felt a bit warmer.

~#~

"For the last time, I don't want a bird." Jonathan stated, and Evan sighed as his arms fell in defeat. He looked back to the birds in their cages, each looking more miserable than the next.

They had already been to a different store for magicians, buying random items like strange rocks and powders and other things that Evan said he would 'need'. So now, the belt around his waist was loaded with random items, along with a wand he didn't know how to use (Evan had specifically warned him- do not draw the wand until training). And so, there they stood, browsing the adoption center for affiliates.

The thing about the adoption center, was that there were animals that he had never even heard of locked away in the cages; there were various types of birds, amphibians, reptiles (including crocodiles, which scared him upon first glance) and every other basic animal one could think of- but then it just got ridiculous.

The room branching off of the one they stood in now may as well have been a zoo. There was an elephant (an elephant!), tigers, lions, penguins, seals, sharks. Hell, there was even an entire _moose_. And, like he'd expected, there were horses, but he wasn't sure he was up for one, now that he stood in their presence.

He must have been browsing for an hour when he finally had to sit down and take it all in. Who the hell needed a shark, anyway? How could you fight with that? And what good would a moose do? Why did he even need an affiliate? If he was truly as powerful as they claimed he was, he would be just fine without one...right?

He decided to get some fresh air and head back out into the alley they'd entered from, bringing his cape closer to his body as he leaned against the brick wall. The city was a lot quieter, now, but he wasn't sure if he was thankful or not. That thought couldn't bother him- it seemed like nothing could, really. It never had, so why should it have started with a thought as lowly and unimportant as that?

A strange sound resembling that of a rapid chirp caught his attention, along with some rustling in the bins beside him. He looked down and saw a raccoon, of all things, looking up at him curiously. He cocked his head as they stared at each other, immobile.

The raccoon then chirped again, standing on its hind legs. It moved into a clearer spot in the alleyway and began to move in a strange fashion, jumping and kicking rocks as it went. he had to admit, the little fellow was rather cute...

The door to the adoption center opened and Evan emerged from within, but the raccoon ceased to stop its little dance. The magician sighed in an irritated tone. "Are you seriously planning on taking a raccoon as your affiliate?"

"My what?" The raccoon chirped again, halting in its dance to take timid steps forward. Its large eyes were beckoning, pleading of a sort, and Jonathan couldn't help but smile when it stood on its hind legs, again.

"This raccoon is trying to persuade you. If an animal wants to be your affiliate, they'll dance to show their skills; it's kind of like a mating ritual, but for a different type of bond." Jonathan weighed his options. Yes, it would probably be best to have something cooler like a lion or a tiger, maybe a breed like Tyler had. But he found that, rather than not caring what he got, he actually _favored_ the raccoon. The little creature wanted to be his affiliate so badly that he had been willing to perform a bonding dance for him, and he found it kind of charming.

"You know what? I think I do want this raccoon. Come here, little guy," Jonathan held out his hand, and the raccoon was happy to oblige- but Evan had other thoughts.

"Jonathan, no- don't do that-" The raccoon's paw touched his hand, and he felt his entire body go stiff. His head began to pound with some vicious type of headache, and his eyes closed in pain. He felt Evan by his side, warm hands touching his shoulders reassuringly. In the midst of the chaos, he wondered when Evan had taken off his gloves.

When his mind began to settle, he could still feel Evan's hands on his shoulders, his voice soft. "Take it easy, Jonathan. You were an idiot for rushing it like that..." He opened his eyes to see the raccoon still standing in front of him. However, unlike before, the creature now had a strange blue aura surrounding it, wispy like smoke.

"What happened?" Jonathan asked timidly, turning his head. He and Evan's faces were mere inches apart. He then noticed how Evan also had an aura similar to that of the raccoon, only a deep shade of red- exactly like the colors of his portals.

"You just opened up a new part of your mind. You can see a magician's magic, now; the transition was rougher than it could have been, but swifter than most." The door opened again, Tyler emerging- and stopping almost immediately. He pointed to the two of them.

"He's got magic, now."

"Yes," Evan helped Jon to his feet, holding on tightly to his arm. "And an affiliate."

~#~

"How are we supposed to go to McDonald's in this clothing?" Jonathan asked, holding the raccoon in his arms as he walked side-by-side with Evan. "I don't know if you're aware, but people don't usually go to restaurants in capes."

"We're going to the drive-thru."

"We don't have a car-"

Suddenly, car alarms went off ahead, and Jonathan was taken aback as he watched Tyler remove his elbow from the shattered glass of the car window he'd just broken. Craig pulled out his wand and used a spell to silence the alarms, and the two men switched places as Tyler let his affiliates into the large, open trunk of the car before proceeding to situate himself in the passenger's seat.

Jonathan looked around, thankful that there was no one in sight. Evan placed a hand on his upper back, leading him to the car. "Let's go."

"Wait, wait- we can't do this, this is someone's car!"

"It's not like we're gonna keep it!" Marcel called out, climbing into the door left of the back. Evan circled around to the right and climbed inside with Vanoss on his arm, using his free one to pull Jonathan inside.

Since Jonathan was sill too stunned to move, Evan closed the door for him, sighing as he fell back into the seat. "Do you even know how to drive, Craig?"

"Hell yeah. I got a license just so I could drive to McDonald's when I'm on scouting missions." Tyler was already busied with starting the car, mumbling a spell under his breath. The car then sprung to life, and Jonathan let out a shaky breath. He still wasn't sure about stealing a car; not many people would be.

The raccoon in his arms- who was now his affiliate- had lost her (they'd confirmed her gender) blue aura almost immediately after the "transition" into the next tier of magics. Evan had explained that, every time a magician or an affiliate used any type of craft, the excess magic would 'leak' as to not overwhelm the bearer.

He had also told Jonathan that magicians had their own shade of magic, his own resulting in sapphire blue. Evan's was red with a slight tint of purple, though he wasn't sure what spell he had cast for it to show, back by the adoption center. Craig's was a melancholic grey, like that of storm clouds, and Marcel's was a bright, lively orange. When Jonathan had asked Tyler to display his color, the magician had merely turned his back.

They pulled into the drive-thru and waited until a lady spoke through the intercom, mentioning their special to which Craig declined. Tyler turned back to his affiliates in the very back of the car, holding a silencing finger over his lips. One of the creatures protested with a soft whine, but Evan reached his hand back, gently petting him until he relaxed.

"Jon, what do you want to eat?" Craig asked him, and he quickly weighed his options.

"Nuggets will be fine." Craig mentioned something about a large nugget to the kind lady before turning his head, sighing as he looked to Marcel.

"Okay, I want a double cheese burger, with two pieces of cheese- two! _One_ piece of bacon,"

"One piece of bacon..." The lady replied.

" _No_ lettuce,"

"No lettuce..."

" _No_ tomato..." Marcel paused, thinking. "And a toy." Jonathan briefly wondered why the hell he would need a toy, until Daisy started chirping happily on the man's lap. Marcel silenced her quickly, petting her head.

They got their food and, luckily, the people at the window didn't see the animals they were hauling around in the backseat, which was already a good plus for them. They returned the car to its rightful spot and Craig cast a spell to replace the glass, Tyler locking it behind them, and it was almost as if it had never been touched in the first place. They trekked back towards the alley they had first entered the city from, the portal still open. Jon held the raccoon tighter as each of the other men began prancing through, one by one, until it was just he and Evan left standing there.

Evan turned to him, his eyes fixed on the animal in the other's hands. "What will you name her?" He asked, his voice now devoid of anger. Jonathan was relieved they'd moved past it.

He thought for a moment before a thought struck his head. "...Rocket."

"Erm...Rocket?"

"Yeah, Rocket Raccoon, like Guardians of the Galaxy?" Evan shook his head, a smile lining his lips as he gestured to the portal. Jonathan was nearly giggling when he stepped through, finding himself back where they'd started in the designated portal room.

Rocket. It had a ring to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate mcdonalds


	5. Karma Police

Jonathan wasn't sure how some lazy, ancient form of relaxation was supposed to help him defeat the Horseman, but he just decided to go along with it when Evan sat him down by the cliff-side the morning after.

"In the midst of battle, people tend to panic and act involuntarily, eventually resulting in loss." Evan told him, taking his spot next to Jonathan. "Meditation is the most natural way to relax the nerves, learn to stay calm in tense situations. The more you meditate, the better."

"Do I, like, hum and shit?"

"No. Just stay quiet, listen to nature. It helps more to remain completely still and silent," Evan glanced over to him, taking a hold of his left arm and placing it forward on his lap. "Put your other arm like that." Jonathan complied, looking to Evan for reassurance. The man only nodded before facing forward.

"Okay, now, close your eyes," Jonathan hummed in affirmation. "Don't focus on your breathing. Just get to a point where your breaths are comfortably even. We'll do this for ten minutes each day, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Right, so now just relax- I can see how stiff your shoulders are- just take one deep breath to start," Jonathan complied, his breath coming out in more of a sigh, though Evan didn't seem to mind. When the man didn't reply, he knew his training had already begun. So, he did as he was told, simply listening to the sounds of nature beyond his ears.

He was about a minute in when he began to fidget. He couldn't help it; he had never been one to stay still, never mind meditate, and this newfound task was proving to be quite difficult. Especially when Evan was wearing a really nice cologne right next to him (he'd always loved more natural scents, though the subtle hint of bitterness in the cologne Evan wore was all the more charming).

The magician seemed to notice, letting out a grumble of disapproval. "Stop moving. You're disrupting the two of us."

"I can't help it," Jon whined. "It's boring."

"That's the entire point. It's so boring that, eventually, you'll find peace in your surroundings."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"That's Craig's view on meditation, not mine," Jonathan's mouth formed an 'o', it seeming to make more sense, now. He decided not to pester Evan further and try again, straightening his back and letting out a soft sigh. However, he found that, since he'd never been one to sit up tall as he was now, his back was starting to hurt, and it was very off-putting. He squirmed in his spot to achieve a better position, only to find that there were none.

If they had truly sat there for ten minutes, it felt like an hour more than the time Evan had set for them. As restless as he was, he was still startled when Vanoss screeched through the mountains as an alarm before landing between them once again, his screams now soft _hoo's_.

"Well," Evan began, standing to his feet. He held out a hand for Jonathan and, as he hoisted himself up, he began to take into consideration how strong the other magician really was. "You failed ten minutes, but I guess that's to be expected."

"So..." Jon dragged after a moment of silence. "What do we do now?"

"I'm gonna try to start you off on basic spells and rituals, which probably isn't going to work this time around, but at least I tried. Now-" Evan looked around, hands on his hips. "Where's your affiliate?"

"Uh...I don't know. She was here a second ago."

"Or ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, that."

"Well, that's our first task," Evan pulled out his wand from his belt, twirling it in his hand a few times. Jonathan did the same, though not giving it quite the flare that his teacher did. "Watch carefully. You're gonna take your wand-" Evan turned to his owl, shooing the creature away as for him to fly somewhere beyond the cliff edge. "And you're gonna say these exact words- Vanoss de summonendo!"

Seconds later, the owl came rushing back, and he held out his arm for the creature to land. Jonathan watched in slight awe, looking down at the wand in his hand. Was it really that easy? He had imagined this to be a lot harder...

"Your turn. Just say your affiliate's name, followed by 'de summonendo'." Evan informed. Jonathan nodded, letting out a deep breath.

"De summonendo. Right..." He held out his wand and Evan stopped him, stepping closer as for both of their grips to be on the object in his hand. The magician situated it correctly and Jonathan's cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment, nodding again for reassurance. "Uh...Rocket...de summonendo?"

"No, no, you have to say it faster, like you mean it." Evan corrected, and Jonathan mumbled something incoherent even to himself before repeating the phrase.

"Rocket de summonendo."

"Bolder."

"Rocket de summonendo!" Not even seconds later, his raccoon came running through the doorway to the temple, a piece of ham wedged between her jaws (where she got it, he had no clue). He let out a small gasp of relief, leaning down to pet her as she approached. "I did it..."

"You caught on pretty quick," Evan told him, and he smiled as he nodded. He couldn't help the feeling of pride swelling in his chest; he could practically feel the unbound magic running through his veins in that moment. He wasn't sure he'd ever done anything so marvelous in his life (though, his life was pretty dull). "However, I think your session with me is done for the day."

"Already? It's only been, like, fifteen minutes!"

"I'm not sure it would be healthy to do more magic than you can handle in one setting," Evan told him, sauntering towards the doorway from which his affiliate had emerged. Vanoss landed on his robed shoulder, and Jonathan lifted the raccoon into his arms to keep up with him. Even if she had only been in the temple for twelve hours, she was already getting a bit plump- and a bit heavy, too. "Besides, you'll have training with Craig, today. Mental magics can be a bit excruciating for beginners."

"Are you good at mental magics?" Jonathan questioned as they stepped into the hall, still sauntering at the same slow speed.

"I wouldn't consider myself a master, but yes, I have been trained. There are very few magicians that can even move a pebble without their wand; only the most powerful of those can prevail."

"So what does that make Craig?"

Evan smiled. "Gifted."

~#~

"When the universe was created, five entities emerged from the first stars. The first was the lion, Umbris," Pink clouds danced before Jonathan's eyes as he watched the show demonstrated by Tyler, images whirling past his eyes. He studied the picture of a lion danced across his vision, elegant and free. "The true goddess of the heavens. With her power, she gave birth to the Four Holy Monarchs.

"The first of her children was Armona, the dolphin zodiac." He watched as the water-bound mammal leaped from the surface of the pink clouds surrounding him, Tyler walking past beyond the veil as he used more of his magic to summon images. "She formed the universe as we know it. With her hand, evolution took its course. For the beings she had created, she forged the Pendant of Armona, that allowed for one such person to walk through walls, or move them altogether.

"Zephalus, the doe zodiac, was the goddess to spark life," A deer ran across his vision, glowing even more so than the other two zodiacs that had been presented. The lion and the dolphin began to prance around with her, all in synchronized harmony. "And spread it across the universe through meteors. However, she soon realized that- with too much life- our universe would become crowded, and made way for the Reaper."

"Wicked..." Jonathan mumbled, his eyes full of stars as he watched the magnificent display. He nearly forgot that Tyler was even there.

"In her power, she created the Rod of Zephalus, the bridge to connect two sides of a river. On one end resides lost, mortal souls and the gods, and on the other we sit- but in between, two entities can meet, if only with her gift.

"Umbris' third daughter, Grevaligne the eagle, had the power to bless anything she pleased with the gift of immortality. Although, she found that the power was too much to bear, even for a god, and created the Book of Grevaligne- a tool that can only be used by the one who bears it."

"What's inside it?" Jonathan asked, turning his head to face the man.

"I can't answer that question in full comprehension," Tyler responded. "The secret to immortality, the layout of the stars. The darkest and most advanced magic in the universe. That is all I know."

"Oh..." Jonathan turned back to the dancing animals, an eagle now soaring overhead of them.

"Her last daughter was Lylon, the hummingbird. Lylon is the messenger, the God Who Sees All. Upon the birth of magicians, she created the Eye of Lylon- a bridge between God and man, that can be used to see anywhere on the planet's face, and can be used to communicate with Lylon herself."

"So, where are these objects they've created?" Jonathan asked him, stroking the fur of the raccoon in his lap. Rocket seemed just as entranced with the show as he was.

"I'm afraid that is classified." Tyler admitted, waving away the clouds. He resisted the urge to groan in dissatisfaction; he would listen to the story again, as it was extremely engaging, and Tyler also had a really nice voice.

"Well, Umbris created an object, right?" Jonathan asked. "If her daughters did, she should have made one, too."

Tyler smirked, leaning down to pet one of his affiliates that approached him. Jon still wasn't sure which one was which. "I'm surprised you haven't figured that one out, yet."

He furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"The Prime Magician," Tyler told him in a matter-of-fact tone, though Jonathan was still lost. "That staff he carries around everywhere. The Star of Umbris has been trapped inside the handle of it for centuries."

Jonathan thought back to his meeting with the Prime Magician; sure, he had seen the cane, and he could vaguely remember it glowing, but he hadn't thought too much of it, at the time. With his mind still trying to process all the information he'd gathered, he wasn't sure he would be able to fully comprehend it. He still hadn't comprehended much of anything since he'd arrived at the temple, really. He was just going with it.

"What does it do?" Jonathan asked him. Tyler hummed, seeing to ask the question to himself, as well. It was a few drawn moments before he finally replied.

"I wouldn't know," He answered. "The power of Umbris is unhinged, infinite. When she first created the star, later magicians had no idea what to do with all of that..." Tyler flicked his wrist. "...energy, so they decided to lock it up. The only one who can access it is the Prime Magician- and the one we have now was the one who decided to wield it for himself."

"So how old does that make him?" Jonathan questioned. Tyler gave him a harsh look before turning his head away.

"I think we're out of time, Jonathan. Tomorrow, you will begin training yourself and your affiliate in the art of partnership," Jonathan stood to his feet, his mind plagued with worry. Tyler had shrugged his question off like a flea. "Please make sure to keep her well fed and hydrated, and that she remains that way until tomorrow's training."

"O...kay."

"Sir," Tyler spoke, though it took Jonathan a moment to register that it was a correction. "When we are in training, you will refer to Marcel, Craig and I as 'sir', and to Evan as 'Master Fong'."

"'Kay- I mean, yes, sir."

"Good. Craig will be waiting in the garden."

Although Tyler seemed somewhat infuriated at him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of victory. "His magic," Jonathan thought to himself, "His magic is _pink_."

~#~

"An orange."

"Yeah."

"I hate oranges." Jonathan informed him, and Craig gave a breathy laugh before setting the orange on one of the tall, beautifully chiseled pillars. He stepped back, returning the other man's side. They stood in silence for a few moments before it became uncomfortable. "So, uh...what are we doing?"

"We're gonna move that orange."

"Yeah?"

"With our minds."

"Radical."

"I know, right? Watch," Craig took a more prepared stance before raising his hand, aimed directly at the fruit resting before them on the pillar. Jonathan watched in amazement as the magician forced the orange to float, slowly raising into the air. Pooling around him was that grey aura, seeming too dark for a man as radiant as he.

"How do you do that?"

"Well," Craig lowered the orange slowly until it once again rested firmly on the marble surface. "I would like to say it's easy, but for beginners, it really isn't."

"That's reassuring."

"Yeah. But I guess you've just gotta...I don't know...believe."

"In the heart of the cards?"

"God dammit, no! In yourself!" Jonathan's mouth formed another'o'. "Take that magic welling in your stomach and transfer it to that orange there," Craig gestured to the fruit. "But you have to have the will to do it."

Jonathan nodded, raising his hand towards the fruit as Craig had done. He nodded, his feet shifting. "Do not try to bend the spoon. That's impossible. Instead...only realize the truth..." He mumbled, and Craig gave him a weird glance. "There _is_ no spoon."

"Are you seriously quoting the Matrix, right now?"

"Then you'll see, that it is not the spoon that bends...but only yourself..." Jonathan tried his best, trying to latch onto that adrenaline-like feeling rushing through his veins, his eyes narrowed challenging-like at the orange. After what felt like minutes, he groaned in disappointment, his hand dropping to his side.

"I really thought Neo was gonna help me, there. You know what," Jonathan turned to Rocket a few feet away, who hadn't moved since he placed her down. "Should I have named you Neo?" The raccoon chirped disapprovingly, shaking her head. "Didn't think so."

"Focus, Jon."

"Yes, sir."

"Did Tyler tell you to say that?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You must have pissed him off a cliff if he had to resort to that. Anyway," Jonathan's eyebrows furrowed, now starting to ache with how much he'd been doing it, recently. "It's natural that you're not gonna move it on your first try. I mean, you're probably gonna get it _some_ time, just...maybe not now."

"Evan said only very few can do this; is it possible that I'm not one of them?"

"You're the Chosen One. You can do _everything_."

"But that prophecy the Prime Magician read to me," Jonathan retorted, trying to call his exact words. "Something about God and her Knight- nothing about that Knight's abilities."

"Just the fact that the Chosen One is a Knight of God is enough to know that they're special," Craig informed him. "More special than the rest of us. And, in my opinion, it doesn't matter how long it takes someone to master something- only that they're able to master it in the first place."

Jonathan took his words into consideration, humming with a sigh. "All you magicians and your wise words. It makes me feel kinda dumb."

"Don't worry about it. Once you've been with the Prime Magician long enough, it'll come to you like a river," Craig reassured him, but Jonathan couldn't shake the heavy feeling still weighing in his stomach.

This wasn't a matter of words. These people's lives revolved around a few ancient sayings and they depended on him to do something he had never even thought possible. He didn't want to kill a man, either. He didn't know what was so bad about this Horseman; who said this guy wasn't the actual Chosen One, and the Temple had it all wrong? What if they were just wasting their time?

But most importantly, what would happen if he failed?

~#~

"Today, we aren't gonna be doing any actual combat. In fact-" He hadn't even noticed Marcel by the table side until a large stack of books landed on its surface, the bang echoing through the expanse of the dim, dusty library. He was taken aback, keeping his hands under the desk until further notice. "All I've been instructed to do, is make you read up on spells and shit."

"I hate reading."

"Well, get used to it, because you'll be doing two hours of this every day until you've got all of these spells memorized and perfected with Evan."

"That seems really hard."

"With a little bit of passion, anything is possible," Marcel clamped a heavy hand on his shoulder, his whole body moving with the weight of it as he made his way back into the aisles of ever-expanding books. "I've gotta go handle some shit. I'll be back when your time's up."

"You're just gonna leave me here?" Jonathan asked in a wary tone, looking around the empty room. Now that he took in all of the finer details, it seemed a bit more eerie than a library should be.

Marcel turned back around, sighing as he leaned on a shelf. Daisy seemed to come out of nowhere and climb to rest upon her owner's head. He looked over the other man's head and pointed to a set of doors behind Jonathan, in which he looked towards briefly before resting his eyes once again on his teacher.

"That set of doors there," Marcel informed him. "Don't go in there. That's restricted for the Prime Magician and a few of the higher-ups."

"Like you and Evan?"

"Yeah, like Evan and I. Don't fuck around when you're studying- and don't let that damn raccoon eat the books. Some are thousands of years old," Rocket chirped unhappily from the small stack of books nearby in which she lay resting on, baring her teeth. If Marcel was intimidated, he didn't know it. "Have fun."

He left swiftly, his elegant robes bellowing behind him as the two doors leading to the halls shut with the flick of a wand behind him, a near absence of sound following. Jon stared at them for a few seconds before looking back towards the other set behind him. He sighed, turning back to the pile of books in front of him and taking the first off of the stack. Engraved in the black, leather-bound cover, it read 'BASIC MAGICS' in silver letters, though it seemed rather worn.

He had very much considered opening it before he remembered that he hated reading, and that he would very much like to see what Marcel was doing, and was on his feet in seconds. He quietly crept towards the doors at the library's entrance, placing his ear on the solid surface and finding that he couldn't hear a thing through its thick interior. So, he placed his hand on the cool doorknob and opened it slowly, peaking out into the hall.

Marcel leaned against one of the walls further down the corridor, a man similar in height standing directly in front of him. Daisy was nowhere in sight, nor did the other man have an affiliate by his side. They actually stood rather close, he gathered, and Marcel was slumped with a smile seeming almost flirty. His friend had fair skin and light brown hair, his emerald robes more fitted to his skin than Marcel's. They laughed at some joke shared between them, Marcel stepped closer, and Jon shut the door before he saw too much.

He sighed as he made his way back over to his designated seat, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table as his eyes wandered back to the mysterious doors, and an idea suddenly popped into his head.

He sat down quickly in his seat, Rocket's head shooting up in question as he began flipping through the pages of the book in front of him, his eyes wandering for a spell that may have been able to help him. After a minute or so, he paused, a finger landing right below one of the lines.

"Unfastening spell," He read quietly to himself. Rocket jumped on the table next to him to look. "Discop-p...eriet ian- ianu- ianuaaaah..." He squinted at the words on the page, trying his best to read the inscribed letters. He tilted his head. "Discoperiet...ianuam. Discoperiet inanuam."

The raccoon next to him chirped, nudging him with her head. Jonathan smiled, using one hand to pull out his wand while the other patted his affiliate's head. He turned back towards the ominous doors looming behind him, letting out a quivered breath.

This was wrong. He shouldn't do this.

He was going to, anyway.

Jonathan let out a deep breath, stalking with tall strides towards the set of doors behind him. He paused some five feet away, twirling the wand shakily in his hand as he gathered his thoughts. He repeated the spell under his breath, aiming the wand towards the lock keeping him from entering.

_Say it faster, like you mean it._

"Discoperiet inanuam!" He declared, a small speck of light emitting from his wand before it shot towards the lock, a small click sounding in his ears. His eyes widened in surprise, his heart beginning to race with pride. He'd successfully completed a spell. Without help.

He wasted time in beckoning Rocket over, the raccoon quickly running to his side as he pushed the mysterious doors open, a groaning creak echoing through the library with his action. He was thoroughly disappointed with what he found.

The room was much, _much_ smaller than the library with the square walls only expanding three meters (at most), each covered with bookshelves that were stacked tight with knowledge. They all looked exceedingly old, too. Jonathan coughed lightly at the piles of dust floating around, trying to wave away the particles that pranced around his eyes.

He approached one of the shelves and pulled out the first book he saw; it was thick with a worn, red cover, no title across its front. He hummed in his throat and began to turn pages with the hand holding his wand, his head cocking at all the detailed inscriptions. His eyes finally landed on one spell- one that seemed to pop out more than the others.

It must have been something about generation of a sort, though he couldn't quite comprehend what the passage was saying. "Generation of the magical energies..." He mumbled, the words flying straight past his head. Still, he shrugged, taking his wand in his free hand. He studied the chant closely. "Magicis...e...egreditur. Magicis egreditur."

By his feet, Rocket was nearly growling with how unhappy her chirps sounded. Jonathan tried his best to shut out the sounds. He knew she must be hungry, but he could feed her once he was done. He pointed his wand in the air, clearing his throat. "Magicis egreditur!"

The powerful surge that hit him next came like a train. It seized his body, his limbs stiffening like steel as a strange, electric feeling began to soar through his veins. It was so exhilarating he couldn't move, its vigorous splendor capturing his mind as if it were a prize. He could barely hear Rocket by his feet, his mind too preoccupied.

"Jonathan!" Suddenly, he was snapped out of his days, his eyes wide and chest aching as he saw Evan at the door. The man rushed forward, quickly catching him before he fell to the ground in his now exhausted state. Evan swore under his breath, pulling out his wand. "Jonathan, what the hell did you do?!"

"Magicis egreditur..." Was all he could speak, and Evan's eyes widened as he shook his head. "It feels great, Master Fong..."

"God, Jonathan, that's _too much power_ for your body to handle, you've only just started your training," Evan slipped his arms under Jonathan's limp body and lifted him as if he were a feather, Rocket quickly following behind. "You are so fucking stupid. How the hell did you even get in there?"

"Discoperiet inanuam," Evan stopped right at the library doors, looking down at the man in his arms with a bewildered expression.

"That's the simplest unlocking spell in the books. We've magically barricaded that door with some of the highest forms of power capable for an inanimate object."

"'Guess I'm gifted." Jonathan joked, though Evan didn't seem to find it amusing. If Jon were him, _he_ wouldn't find it very amusing, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive put far too much planning into one fanfic. seriously, the outline for this story drags on for miles.


	6. Walking the Wire

Jonathan was really starting to hate tea.

He watched it cascade down into his cup, steaming as it had the last time he had sat before the Prime Magician. Though, this time they sat in an awkward silence, as he was probably about to be lectured for the shockwaves still running through his veins (he probably shouldn’t have used that spell).

The kettle was whisked away with the flick of a hand. As he was about to reach for it, the magician swatted his hand, taking the hat from his head and beginning to dig through it as he had during their last meeting. The Prime Magician had been sporting a blank look ever since he walked through the door. It was quite possible he already knew what he’d done. He probably saw everything that happened in his temple. 

Finally, he pulled out a small vile, its gooey contents looking much like honey. He popped the lid and tilted it slightly until a single drop landed in Jonathan’s drink, choosing instead to throw it behind his chair without any magic to catch it. Then, he sighed, sitting back in his chair and taking a long sip of his tea.

They were silent for a few moments, and Jonathan looked down at his tea in question. Whatever the magician had put in had already disappeared, the tea unaffected. He lifted his glass but didn’t drink, just yet.

“Do you know why you are here, Jonathan?” The Prime Magician asked in a quiet voice, though his tone was undetermined. He could only nod in response. “Enlighten me.”

“Is this a test?”

“You’ve been taking tests since you were born. This one should be no different.” Jonathan was quiet, again, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a small drink. It tasted just the same; he was starting to get a bit worried, now. He was actually beginning to care if this man poisoned him, or not.

“I, erm…” He tapped his fingers on the side of his cup, letting out a small sigh. “I broke into your private library.”

“And?” The magician urged, his eyes cold as he took another sip of his drink. Jonathan did the same, though still quite reluctant.

“I...I used a spell that I shouldn’t have.” The magician fell silent again, his eyes landing on the table. Jonathan began to feel slightly drowsy; the adrenaline in his veins was beginning to cease, the aching in his bones showing through. That spell had done a lot on his body…”What did you put in my drink?”

“It’s usually used as a magic antidote, powerful enough to put a horse to sleep- but your body just took the weight of a giant. The most you’ll feel is drowsiness and dizziness.”

“What would happen if I would have kept the extra magic?”

“You would combust, and explode all over my study.”

“Neat.”

“I know, right?” They took sips of their tea in sync, Jonathan searching for an awkward taste that would identify as the antidote, and ended up assuming it didn’t have one at all. Still, he was sure he would be taking a nap after he was done with the Prime Magician.

He thought back to the events that had taken place just under twenty minutes before. Evan seemed somewhat bipolar; he could be cold and distant in one moment, and worrisome heroic in the next. The man was just shrouded in mystery. He knew next to nothing about Evan’s childhood, his interests and hobbies- he didn’t even know just how much power he held, whether it be authority or magically speaking.

“Can you tell me something about Ev- I mean, Master Fong?” He corrected himself, and the other man paused before setting his glass back down onto its little plate. 

“What is it you wish to know?”

“Anything. I barely know a thing about that guy, and it would be nice to be familiar with my instructor if he wants to teach me what he has to teach.”

The magician cleared his throat, leaning back in his seat and crossing one leg over the other while he pondered. Rocket, having been quiet for the entirety of the meeting, jumped onto the table for attention, in which Jonathan hastily put her back on his lap.

“Well...he isn’t the most...outgoing person. He likes to hang around with Masters Abbott, Thompson and Cunningham, but he doesn’t prefer speaking with anyone else. He really only became acquainted with them once they were all promoted to their ‘Master’ positions.”

“What about his childhood?” THe magician smiled, taking a sip of his tea.

“He learned the content I taught him faster than any other magician I’ve seen in a very long while. I knew he wasn’t the Chosen One- which is you-” Jonathan nodded. “-but he was brilliant enough to fill my position, come my retirement.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, there isn’t much I can tell you. His life has been fairly simple, up to this point. Anything else, you best have told to you by Evan himself. I don’t like prying into the minds of my students.” The man finished his tea, Jonathan following soon after. He rubbed his tired eyes with a yawn, petting his affiliate as she chirped from her place in his lap. “If we are done here, you may head back to your bedchamber.”

“I never finished my studying…”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a very good idea, for today,” Jonathan slowly stood from his seat, still petting the raccoon in his arms. He kicked his leg to keep the robes from clinging to his skin. “And make sure you apologize to Masters Cunningham and Fong. I’m sure they must have been very frightened.”

“Evan isn’t the kind of guy to get scared.”

“You would be surprised. You’re dismissed.” Jonathan narrowed his eyes in confusion, but the magician only stayed silent. He had nearly made it to the door before the magician stopped him. “Oh and Jonathan,” He called out, and the man turned around. The affiliate made a low noise in her throat. “I’ll have Evan start you on more advanced subjects.”

~#~

“Call your affiliate.” They once again resided in a small, empty room, greying skies beyond the thin walls with torches to light the space. Tyler sat in a wood chair in the corner, his affiliates laid before him (one appeared to be asleep). Jonathan was placed not too far away with his back nearly to the wall, Rocket laying in a state of peaceful slumber across the room.

He pulled out his wand, trying to remember the spell he had used the other day. Did it start with an ‘m?’ No, that was the one he wasn’t supposed to use. He needed to forget that one. The name was right on the tip of his tongue…

“I’m waiting, Jonathan.”

He thought harder for a few moments before it struck his mind. “Oh!” He held out his wand, the affiliate still asleep (somehow). “Rocket de summonendo!”

The affiliate shot her head up, leaping to her feet and rushing over- right before sitting straight back down and falling asleep in a ball, again. He let out a sigh, happy that his spell had worked, but just disappointed in Rocket as a whole. Were affiliates supposed to be this lazy?

Tyler stood from his chair in the corner, moving to where Jonathan stood. “Go take a seat. Kino,” He called, and Jon quickly glanced to the affiliate that had previously been napping. He had a thin coat of hair, smothered in black and white patches with a thick scarf of fur. He quickly stood to his feet, trotting over. 

Jonathan finally moved to do as he was told. Still, he kept his legs close, not wanting them to be chewed off by the other two creatures around him. Rocket quickly jumped into his lap, snarling. The two breeds weren’t fazed in the slightest.

“Go down there, Kino,” The affiliate responded accordingly, taking his place on the opposite end of the room. Tyler pulled out his wand, looking to the man in the chair. “If there’s one thing you should know about magicians, it’s that we all have affiliates- even the Horseman’s subjects. You’re gonna want to know how to stop them from attacking.”

“Do our affiliate’s fight each other?” Jon responded. “Is it like Pokemon?”

“Oh my god. No, they won’t fight each other, only the people controlling them. That’s why you need to pay a lot of attention during battle, because you’ll have both of your opponents coming after you, while your affiliate will only be harmed by the magician in the pair.”

“So they just won’t fight at all? Like, it’s impossible?”

“Affiliates have their own way of thinking. Most would choose not to attack another.”

“But how do you know what animals are affiliates or not?- or are they _all_ affiliates?”

Tyler sighed, closing his eyes as he turned his body back towards Kino. “No. Not all animals are capable of magical partnerships. Now, stop asking questions so I can teach you.” Jonathan remained still, nodding as he held his affiliate to his chest and stroked her fur slowly as he watched his teacher.

Tyler twirled the wand in his hand. “Kino,” He declared. “Charge.”

The affiliate took a moment to gather himself, his entire body going from somewhat cute to utterly terrifying as he charged at his master. Tyler quickly held up his wand. “Non cesses motus!”

Kino was quick to stop as the small shot of pink magic hit him, his paws scraping against the polished floors as he brought himself to a halt. His eyes were wide, body struck still in its place as he made soft whines in pain. Tyler kneeled by his side, holding his wand to the affiliate’s forehead.

“Sana tuam tactra,” The magician mumbled, another orb making its way between the wand and the creature before disappearing. Kino’s body went slack, panting as his head fell harshly into Tyler’s lap. He rubbed the breed’s head soothingly as his brothers quickly crowded him. 

“What did you do to him?” Jonathan asked warily, struggling to look past the other two affiliates to get a glance of Kino. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine with a little rest. Now go put Rocket over there, it’s your turn,” Jonathan stood to his feet, holding the raccoon even closer to his chest with a frightened mien.

“No. I’m not putting my affiliate through pain for the sake of training. I refuse.” Tyler only glared, standing to his feet and slowly approaching Jonathan with heavy, threatening steps. He swallowed in his throat, but stood his ground. “She’s a small little thing. She can’t take it.”

“The healing spell will leave her tired, but still rid of pain. I suggest you put her down at the end of the room before I have to fetch Master Fong.”

He was wading in dangerous water. He was sinking, and the sharks were swimming closer with the ticking seconds. He didn’t want to hurt Rocket. He never wanted her to feel pain at his own hand nor any other. However, he was sure that the man in front of him would take any steps necessary to have him learn; these people had waited centuries for the so-called ‘Chosen One,’ and they’d be damned if they let him loose untrained. He had to do this- no matter how much it would hurt he and Rocket.

He was starting to have serious doubts about what the future held.

~#~

“Fix your grip or waste a clean shot,” Marcel panted, swinging his knife a second before Jonathan dodged it. He barely had time to comprehend his teacher’s words, still settling for the unsteady clutch he had on the weapon. He swung, and Marcel ducked effortlessly. 

They went like this for a while, striking and dodging, with Marcel’s patience slowly slipping away. Jonathan could tell the man was purposely going slower as for Jonathan to have time to fix his stance, but to no avail. His mind was too transfixed on getting the swings in, finding a better opportunity to strike, and receiving nothing in return. 

“Dammit, Jonathan, your grip! Fix it!” Jonathan grunted in irritation, moving to fix his fingers before the knife fell out of his hands completely- but not before slicing the skin of his palm. Blood began to slowly leak from the wound as he grabbed his wrist, looking down at his mistake, mouth agape in shock.

Marcel swore under his breath, swiftly sliding his knife into his belt as he approached his student. He took ahold of his wrist and sighed, placing a hand on Jonathan’s upper back as he led him to the doors of the studio. “Dammit, Jonathan...we don’t have time for this…”

Jonathan did his best to keep whimpers of pain concealed, biting his lip as they quickly winded through hall after hall with blood still dripping from his hand onto the floors. Marcel took his wand to clean the spills each time, though he wondered why the man couldn’t just fix his wound then and there.

Soon, they arrived at the medical center where Luke sat quietly at one of his benches, toying around with ingredients. He looked around, remembering the few moments he’d spent there when he’d woken up. It had all seemed so terrifying, so foreign. Yet, now that he stood there again, it seemed almost normal.

“He cut himself with a knife. The wound is pretty deep.” Marcel led him to the table he’d woken up on only days ago, and Luke stood from his bench to gather a towel before approaching. He took his wrist with gentle fingers and Jonathan hissed, seeming like any sudden movement caused an onslaught of pain. Luke placed the towel onto the wound, taking Jonathan’s hand and placing it on top of the other.

“Apply pressure- relentlessly,” Luke turned to Marcel. “He should be done in half an hour, if I’m lucky.”

The magician nodded and made his exit with haste, robes bellowing behind him. He was left feeling alone, although the doctor stood next to him, and he found himself missing the company of Rocket. Evan would be somewhat good company, as well. There was just something so entertaining about him that separated him from the rest.

Luke seemed to be taking his damn well time, searching his stocked shelves for something or another. He finally gathered a few bottles, moving back to one of his benches and spreading them out. Jon decided to look away, wanting to focus on something other than the irritating medic or the pain in his hand, which he found both quite difficult.

The man finally approached him once more, this time holding a small, wooden bowl with a strange brown powder inside of it and another bowl with a very short supply of water and a chiseled brush. He set down the second bowl next to Jonathan and used the free hand to gently remove the towel, opening his fingers to expose the wound.

“Remain still. This will only burn for a few seconds,” Luke took the wet brush from the second bowl and wiped it on a clear patch of the bloodied towel, leaving it only slightly damp as he dabbed it in the powder.

“You magician doctors have a knack for pain, don’t you- _shit_!” He resisted the urge to scream as the brush swept over his wound, leaving a wet trail of now black powder in its wake. His hand began to shake with how hard he clenched his muscles, Luke taking another swab of powder and going back over the wound.

The pain quickly began to cease, the powder almost melting into his skin as it magically stitched itself back together. Within seconds, the wound was barely visible at all, and all that was left was dried blood and excess powder. He marveled at it, a bit of pain still lingering but most of it clear. He ran a timid finger over it and found that it still burned, in which Luke smacked it away.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not done.” Luke stated emotionlessly, taking the wounded hand and sticking it in the bowl of water before drying it off with the towel. There was still a bit of blood and powder, but everything around the wound was now gone. Luke took this time to gather another item off the shelf, another powder, though purple. “You’re a real dumbass, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Jonathan responded, smiling. “Though, it somehow sounds better coming from you.”

“How so?”

“Because you don’t mean it.”

“How do you know I don’t?”

“Because you aren’t some nasty boss with too many dumb workers. You’re just a bored medic that just so happens to have magic and too much time,” Luke glanced at him briefly, his eyes becoming somewhat melancholic. “I can’t say I know the feeling. I’ve been working overtime ever since I left high school.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I couldn’t afford college, which left me with jobs at run down grocery stores and gas stations. Miraculously, I chose the stores,” Luke returned with a separate brush, this one smaller and looking to have softer bristles. “What about you? Were you raised here?”

Luke seemed to hesitate before answering, “Mostly,” Jonathan hummed, nodding as Luke left his side once more.

“Tell me your story. It’s pretty boring, in here.” Luke seemed to pause, though Jon couldn’t see, and resumed moving again after a long moment.

“My dad died during his patrol. My mom wanted to keep me, tried to sneak into the temple and take me herself, but...she wound up dead, too.” Jonathan looked down to the floor. His mother must have been mortal (at least, that was the only conclusion he could draw). He couldn’t have been too young, either.

“I don’t know my parents,” Jonathan admitted, and Luke seemed to pause, though very subtly as he moved in front of the patient, again. “The Prime Magician said something about me being born and stolen. That’s why you guys couldn’t find me for thirty years. Do you know anything about that?”

Luke cleared his throat, taking the smaller brush and running it through a small bowl of a foreign, sticky, yellow-stained substance. He took Jonathan’s wounded palm and rubbed the cool liquid over the enclosed cut. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. I would have been four, at the time.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure he could trust his own ears. These people- whom, of which, saw him as some sort of god-spawn- were hiding every bit of information from him that they possibly could. He didn’t know anything about the Horseman, he didn’t know anything about his teachers or Evan. Now, he wasn’t even allowed to know anything about his own _past_. What was so damn important to these people that they had to keep secret?

“You finally shut your mouth,” Luke piped up, dragging the brush over his wound once again. This feeling was rid of pain with a strange tingling sensation, one that seemed to echo down to the bone of his hand. “I hope my tongue didn’t silence yours.”

“I’m just thinking.” He responded, swinging his legs as he watched the mark left from the wound slowly disappear, sinking into his skin like quicksand. He tilted his head at the sight.

“I’m surprised you’re capable,” They laughed, the insults coming off more as jokes than anything. Besides, the mood was in desperate need of lightening, and Jonathan needed to stop being paranoid. It wouldn’t do him any good, he reminded himself. It never did.

~#~

“I think the temple is in need of more tea,” Ryan tapped his fingers on the fur of the rabbit he held, biting his lip as he gazed out into the setting sun beyond his window. Somewhere behind him, his assistant sifted through papers, organizing as quick as he dared. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

“I sometimes worry about your tea obsession. I’m sure it must make up a large percentage of your blood, by now, sir,” Ryan gave an airy laugh, setting Ohm on the curved windowsill as he turned back towards Mark. He was handing files to his affiliate- a gorilla- to hold while he gave the finishing touches to his now neater desk. He hadn’t organized it in years.

“Thank you again for helping, Mark. I don’t know how I’ve lived this long without you,” The man smiled, setting the last of the work onto the desk and straightening his back. “You can have tomorrow off, if you’d wish. You haven’t had a proper break in a while.”

“You know how this goes, sir,” He responded. “I go on break, and the world is set aflame. I think I’ll pass- but I hope you wouldn’t mind if I slept in?”

“Not at all. You can be dismissed.” The man complied, and they said their final farewells of the evening before he was left alone in his study. He turned his head to see Ohm with the corner of a paper in his mouth, slowly devouring it. He sighed, shaking his head as he swiftly made his way towards his affiliate. “Oh, Ohm, you crazy rabbit…”

He had just gently torn the paper from the rabbit's jaws when he heard a rustling behind him, and a gentle pat of an object falling to the floor. He had been about to blame it on the wind when he remembered that he didn have his windows open, that evening. This- to Ryan- was frightening.

He turned around, looking down towards his little table. His top hat had fallen onto the ground, and cards sifted through the air like currents. He narrowed his eyes as his heart began to race in slight fear- swallowing in his throat. It wasn’t often he received direct messages from Umbris herself.

He made his way slowly down the few steps distancing the table and his desk, maneuvering around the neat stacks of books. He bent down to pick up his top hat, placing it back on his head as he looked towards the three face down cards on the table, the others in a neat stack off to the side. He felt Ohm by his side and watched him leap up onto his chair, something he would usually scold his affiliate for but seeming like the least of his priorities, at the time.

The past, the present, and the future. He could only guess what lie before him. But, if Umbris was sending her word to the messenger, it had to be of severe importance.

He slid off his gloves with shaking fingers, the air seeming so much chillier than it actually should have been. He supposed he could fix that with the flick of his wand, but decided that was a task for later. He hesitantly reached down and touched the first card, the burning sensation almost numb to his aged digits.

He flipped the first card, and his breath hitched. It always did. The Lover’s card had haunted him for so long, an image burned into his mind. He could only stand there for a few moments, his eyes transfixed on the worn card (it was almost as old as he, as much as he hated to admit it). 

The second card let off mixed feelings, though he knew they were accurate. The Moon- anxiety, fear, insecurity. He had to admit, he’d felt exceedingly anxious when Evan had finally returned with the Chosen One. He had anticipated their meeting since had taken charge (it was expected of the Prime Magician to know exactly what to do when the Chosen One had been discovered). However, he found himself doubtful in himself, questioning whether he was truly prepared for the tasks they were destined to face. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to.

Another card flipped- and his heart stilled once more.

When Umbris sends her message to powers as great as he, anything can be taken as literal- and the Death card was the last thing he had wanted to be given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really sorry for anything left unedited. im posting this in a rush, since school's being a lil bitch, and i am now fostering three more kittens. my goal is to get one chapter done a week (still 4k words at the least) in which i failed last time, but i still have about two or three more chapters in the line-up.


	7. Bones

Jonathan had never been a fan of being forced awake- but, if it was at the claws of Vanoss, he was more than willing to get out of bed.

At first, he had wanted to chuck something at the owl, but calmed once he had realized that there was no need for fear. Though, he did find it a bit chilling how the owl just sat there on his nightstand, his eyes seeming to glow in the dark. A shiver was sent down his spine as he sat up, running his nails over his itching collarbone. 

Vanoss leaped from the nightstand and soared to the open wardrobe, sitting atop of it as he waited patiently for Jonathan to respond. He slowly climbed out of bed, his mind spinning with questions as he began to dress himself in plum-colored robes. Was Evan expecting him? Would he be so willing to train in the middle of the night, yet so lazy, that he had to send his affiliate to retrieve him?

Rocket, now alert, tried to move from the bed. However, Vanoss seemed to almost growl towards the raccoon, and his affiliate succumbed to the threat. Jonathan glared at the bird, sliding on his sandals as Vanoss now flew towards the open door (when, exactly, had he left those open?)

They played their little game of cat and mouse down the now familiar halls, though still curious as to where the the owl was leading him. Was this some sort of prank Evan had set up? Maybe he was in danger, and his affiliate hadn’t known who else to go to, if that was the case, he would be honored, though he was doubtful of that, too.

Finally, they had reached a familiar area; they now trekked through the hall that contained the room for portal summoning, the owl hopping along on the polished rather than gliding. He had expected to be led into the room forementioned but, instead, he was guided to the strange door at the end. While it had previously been closed, it was now slightly cracked open, just enough for Vanoss- even with his size- was able to squeeze through. 

He felt somewhat guilty for exploring like this. It had been one of the first things Evan had told him specifically _not_ to do. However, Vanoss had something to show him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t follow the one with the supersonic-owl-themed-megablast.

He slipped through just in time to see Vanoss slowly hopping down the winding, stone steps, the gentle clatter echoing throughout the dusty staircase. He made his way down with caution, he being not too fond of spiders and rats and the such (which he was almost sure there were). 

When they reached the bottom, Jonathan found himself in a room of glass-concealed displays; there were two to either side of him, one empty with another case in the same state at the end of the setup they constructed. 

As he was led down the path, he read their plaques; one contained a thick, gold chain with a strange purple jewel inside, with its rusted sign reading ‘ARMONA’S PENDANT.’ He came to his realization, knowing that this was one of the goddess’ creations Tyler had informed him of. Looking to the case to its left- the upper front- he was presented with a thick, leatherbound book of an eerie green shade. The plaque read Grevaligne, and he suddenly wondered that, if the spells the Prime Magician kept in his private library were bad, how extreme they got in a book given by a goddess.

Vanoss led him to the case directly across from Grevaligne’s, its plaque reading ‘ZEPHALUS’ ROD.’ It must have been made of pure gold, even more so marvelous with the large diamond within its head. Elegant carvings ran down the sides, a diamond-crested handle giving it a royal finish.

The owl jumped upon the case, the glass door he hadn’t even realized that had been unlocked slowly sliding open. He looked to Vanoss, the bird giving Jonathan that stern look he always bore- though, this time, it was demanding more than anything. He shook his head, taking a step back. “No, I ain’t touchin’ that. I don’t want another lecture from the Prime Magician. I’ve already screwed up once.”

The owl only continued to give him the same look and, he had to admit- Vanoss had his way with words.

He slowly reached his hand in, his fingers shaking again. What did this do, again? Wasn’t this the one that let him see people anywhere? No, that was the pendant- no, the eye-

He touched it, and suddenly, the world turned white.

The case still lie in front of him, along with the rod (in which he hadn’t lifted his hand from)- but everything else was like a blank paper. He pulled his hand away with a quivered gasp, looking down at it. He’d done it- he’d fucked up hard, and there wasn’t going back.

“Hello, Jonathan,” He spun around quickly, his mind spinning. He narrowed his eyes at the figure standing a good four meters away, quickly becoming more bewildered than he had ever since he’d woken up in that strange temple. There, standing in the distance, was the man from the orphanage.

He still had his hat and everything in the like, dark clothing and a dark cloak. Vanoss, whom he hadn’t even realized had traveled to this strange world with him, now flew to sit upon the man’s hat, and he resembled Evan so much he had to make sure it wasn’t really him.

“It’s you,” He muttered, taking a step closer. “You’re the man from the orphanage.” He finished, and the man didn’t respond. His chest tightened. “You never came back for me like you said you would.” The man remained silent, deathly still. Jonathan stepped forward, nearly scowling.

“I waited for _years_ thinking you would come back and at least visit. You left me with nothing- you didn’t _explain_ anything,” Jonathan looked around, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Where the hell are we, anyway? I want to go back to bed.”

“Calm down, Jonathan. No need to be hysterical, I promise,” The man stepped forward, and Jon crossed his arms like an angered child, biting the inside of his lip. “I supposed everything I had said years ago would be clear, by now.”

“Enlighten me,” The man smiled, seeming more melancholic than anything else it could have meant. Jonathan then noticed how strange his skin looked; yes, he was an Asian man, but he seemed...sickly, of some sort. 

“You’re being hunted, Jonathan,” He finally spoke. “The Horseman knows exactly where you are- his men have seen your face, so he’s seen it, too. He can see you from anywhere on the globe, and this temple is your only sanctuary, since you have some of the best magicians in the world willing to give their lives for your own.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me this when I was a kid?” Jonathan licked his chapped lips, his voice slowly becoming more broken. He was being over-emotional- and, in his own mind, he had every reason to be.

“You were too young to comprehend, and I’m sure the other kids around us wouldn’t have wanted to hear what I told you.”

“I didn’t want to hear it, either,” He informed him. “I had nightmares for years.”

“You must understand, I couldn’t have come any later, nor could I have returned-”

“But _why_? Why couldn’t you come back? I’m sure you magicians have time to travel with your _fancy little portals_ -”

“I’m _dead_ , Jonathan.” He paused, his eyes widening as he looked to the man before him. Vanoss’ head dropped a bit, rearranging himself upon the magician’s hat. Jonathan ran a hand over his eyes, letting out a soft, quivered breath. “I didn’t have much time. The Horseman knew where I was- where you were- and wanted us eliminated from the picture. So, I fled, they killed me, and if I hadn’t cast a warding spell, you would be exactly where I stand, now.”

“I don’t understand,” Jonathan rubbed his wrist nervously, shifting from one foot to the other with his eyes downcast at the floor. “You’re dead, but I’m talking to you…”

“We are standing in the astral plane, the world between Earth and heaven. You were brought here by the Rod of Zephalus, which I’m sure Master Abbott has taught you about?” Jonathan paused, coming to a realization. He stayed silent in his shame. “He has taught you about the objects, correct?”

“Uh, yeah, but...how would you know that? Can you see me from Earth?” The man sighed, biting his lip before replying.

“I am only able to see those when they have me in mind. That is how it is for all of our souls in heaven- so no, I have not been able to see you.”

“Then how would you know-?” Jonathan paused again, and the man looked to the ground once more. It was a discovery that, to anyone who knew him, would be incredible for him to figure out. Yet, when it came to this situation…”You’re Evan’s dad, aren’t you?” No reply. “That’s why you can see him, because he thinks about you.”

The man stepped forward again, bringing them a mere two meters apart as they faced each other in the eye. “His story is not what I have brought you here to tell. I’m here to tell _yours_.”

Jonathan remained still, worried that, if he moved, this man may change his mind. Still, he clenched his fists in both anger and anticipation, wondering just what was so important about his past that he had to have a _dead guy_ tell it to him.

“I met Evan’s mother on a scouting mission, a beautiful, marvelous woman. Most magicians will find human wives, since, you know…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah...but, anyway, that doesn’t matter, right now. What matters is, your mother wasn’t human. She was a magician, just like you- except, she was a nun.” Jonathan found himself bewildered but, luckily, the man continued quickly. “She was too powerful for them to handle. She had abilities that of male magicians, capable of destruction, unlike her peers. So, they tossed her out onto the Prime Magician’s doorstep, and she became the second female magician to ever step foot, there.

“She and your father- a master- became very, very, _very_ friendly with each other. True love, they called it. Soon, they were married, and she was pregnant with a baby,” Jonathan’s eyebrows raised, pointing to himself. The man nodded. “But, by the time she was going into labor, we already knew something was terribly wrong.

“All of the spells we cast to numb the pain of birth were uneffective, and she went through a great deal more than any human. You took two entire days, and you came out feet first, but I’m sure what was truly terrifying, was how you were glowing.”

“Glowing? Like, in a fabulous way or a magical way?”

“The latter. Stop interrupting, this is important.” Jonathan silently agreed, though he had to admit, he would just feel depressed about the whole thing without his little remarks. They at least made the conversation lighter. “I knew you were the one the prophecy spoke of, and knew you wouldn’t be safe in the temple until they had taken the time to reinforce it. So, I did what I had to and took you away before the Prime Magician could interfere.

“My original plan had been to take you to my wife’s home to stay with us. She was already pregnant herself, and we could have raised you and Evan as brothers, but the Horseman had already found me. I traveled to the other side of the globe to place you in an orphanage in Washington D.C until it was safe to return, but I found that my time was even more limited than I had first intended.

“I had been running from the Horseman and my own people for too long. I knew I wouldn’t survive, and you still needed to be set on your path, so I visited the orphanage one last time. Afterwards, when the Horseman finally found me, I...I didn’t resist.”

The man went silent, letting out a quivered sigh. Jonathan couldn’t help but do the same. Of all things he had expected to have happened to his parents, he certainly hadn’t been expecting _that_. He’d thought that they had maybe died in battle or something, not some tragically epic tale.

“What about my parents?” He piped up. “Where are they, now?”

The man seemed to hesitate before answering. “Your mother, she- she didn’t survive during labor,” Jonathan felt his shoulders slump in defeat. “Even a woman with as much power as she couldn’t handle you- a creation of the Goddesses.”

He paused for a moment, swallowing in his throat. “And my dad?” 

The man sighed. “Died trying to get you back. Hand of the Horseman.”

Jonathan began to pace, trying to calm his nerves. Yes, he had considered that his parents were dead, though that had only occurred to him during his youth. Between that, he lost all care, but when he had arrived, he had hoped that he would have at least one family member around him. Instead, it was _his_ fault that his parents were dead- both of them.

“Not many children have both parents by the time they’re a full-grown magician,” The man tried to comfort him, but Jonathan found it difficult to listen as his mind became steadily more hazed. “Some mothers abandon their children, some fathers die in battle, some parents accept jobs as Lords before their child is an adult. You’d be surprised how often these instances occur.”

“The Horseman,” Jonathan choked out, facing the man on quivering legs. “How do I find him?”

“Jonathan, you are not yet ready-”

“How do I _find_ him.” The man paused, his mouth falling slightly agape before he closed it, again. Jon waited patiently for an answer, his eyes narrowing. He was the Chosen One, and he would kill the Horseman- but if he wanted to do it, he would have to know where he was, first. His revenge for those who died for _Jon’s_ sake.

“It is not so simple,” The man told him, his voice calm yet cautious. His face held that of sincere concern. “He can already see you, Jonathan. Not here, no- but when you return to your bedroom and fall asleep once more, he will keep a steady eye on you. I’m sure of it. The only reason why he hasn’t killed you yet is because of the magicians around you. They’re your best protection; they’ve trained to be your bodyguards their entire lives.”

Jonathan was truly starting to feel the weight of the responsibility he carried. People who had never even met him were prepared to give their lives, in honor of their God and her Knight, all because of some few ancient words. They wanted him to do what he saw as impossible. 

They expected him to obliterate this Horseman, as they called him, when he didn’t even understand exactly what kind of content they were teaching him. All he could do was summon his affiliate, undo locks and summon energy at such an alarming rate it could potentially kill him (something, he reminded himself, he needed to forget). He couldn’t hurt an animal with these spells, let alone the _Horseman_.

“Before I leave you, I have a few words of advice,” Jonathan raised his head again after hastily wiping away tears threatening to fall, sniffing and taking a tall stance of authority (though, in his mind, he knew he had none). “Please, listen to my son. Study when he instructs you to, stay out of trouble, learn your spells and rituals as best as you can. However,” The man stepped forward again until they stood eye level, and he took Jonathan’s hand in his own, cradling it like fine china. “My son, you must remember, is just as human as you.

“He will make mistakes, and he won’t be able to answer every question on your mind. I ask you this not as an elder, nor as a teacher- but a friend.” Jon stared him directly in the eye, unmoving. “Take care of each other. It does not matter your rank- I only trust you will remain close by his side, and he by yours. He is the veteran, and you- dearest Jonathan- _you_ are the _apprentice_.”

~#~

“What are you reading?” Luke shot his eyes towards the doorway, seeing the Prime Magician leaning against the aged wood in his evening gowns. He placed his bookmark between the pages.

“Pride and Prejudice.” He responded, closing the cover and holding it out for the man. Ryan kept his eyes transfixed on it as he approached slowly, one foot in front of the other. It was late at night, and the Prime Magician wouldn’t let himself be seen in his gowns by anyone other than Mark and himself. They were grey (all of Ryan’s clothes were), seeming to almost bellow behind his far-too-slim figure. Luke would have to remind him to eat more, soon.

Ryan gently took the novel from his grasp, flipping through the first few pages. “I meant to read this when it first came out,” He let it close, handing it back and resting his palms on the table. “Never got around to it, though.”

“With all of those books in your office, I was expecting you to get a few read, here and there,” Ryan laughed sheepishly, his fingers gently tapping against the cool wood. Luke put Pride and Prejudice off to the side. “What do you need, sir?”

The Prime Magician paused, licking his chapped lips before replying. “I was hoping you’d have some sort of sleeping serum. Raw magic doesn’t really work on me, and I don’t want to put myself to sleep for an eternity, so…”

“Of course, sir,” He stood from his stool, hurrying over to his shelves to pick and choose what he’d need. “May I ask why, though?”

“My mind’s been running too fast, recently,” Ryan started, beginning to pace behind him. “I can’t think to do anything other than sleep, for a little while. I thought I’d consult my doctor about it,” Luke smiled, grabbing the last of his materials and bring them back over to the bench. Ryan soon joined him, watching him work.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Having a few more details might help me decide which parts of your subconscious to numb down, for a while.” Ryan remained relatively silent for the next few moments, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Luke turned his eyes towards him in worry. He knew the Prime Magician had never been a relatively happy man, but certainly acted like it- especially around he and Mark.

“I just feel a bit shaken, I guess,” He replied. “Umbris has decided to send another message.”

“What did it read?” Luke looked back to the shelves, taking the pine he had chosen and instead locating the clary sage and chamomile. It would do a great deal to rid him of any depressive thoughts, stress and anxiety- or, at least, he hoped. Perhaps some pinewood sprinkled in could make the effect a little stronger.

“It was nothing new, really, except- um-” He set the jars on the table, pausing to look towards the hesitant magician. He patiently awaited an answer. “My future read Death.”

Luke turned back towards what he was doing, letting out a quivering sigh. “I’m sure She didn’t send it as a literal message. Perhaps she only means that you will have a new beginning.”

“I appreciate the comfort, but you know Her. She likes to be very straightforward.” Luke remained silent, urging the man on as he worked. “I’m very on-edge, more than I usually am. I don’t know what’s going to happen; what if I end up dead? Or you? Or- oh, god, what if _Jonathan_ ends up dead?”

“Sir, you’re becoming hysterical-” Luke set down the chamomile, turning to the man and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. Tears began to gather in Ryan’s eyes.

“I’ve spent so long waiting for him, I can’t lose him now- maybe I should train him, instead-”

“ _Ryan_.” The man stopped, looking up at Luke with clouded hazel eyes. In this light, they almost looked like an ocean before a storm; a cloudy greyish blue. “Worrying will do us no good. Jonathan will prevail, I just know it, and deep inside, I’m sure you do, too.”

The man nodded, and Luke removed his hands from Ryan’s cheeks as the other wiped the wetness gathering in his eyes. He resumed work, the soft skin of the Prime Magician still lingering in his fingertips. 

They remained relatively silent until Luke had finished, a bowl of wafting scents lying before them. It looked much like a thick goo, something far from pleasant, so he added some strawberry flavoring to help it go down. He knew the Prime Magician loved strawberry.

“Chug this,” He said, handing the man the bowl. “The faster you drink, the sooner you can sleep.”

“What did you put in it?” The man croaked, sniffling as he looked down at the creation with slight disgust.

“Insomnia dissuasion, along with some chamomile and clary sage to help with your anxiety and stress. The chamomile is also good for sleeping, if that would help. And I put in some strawberry flavoring, if only to make it a bit easier to swallow.”

The man remained silent as he tipped his head back, letting the substance fall into his mouth and down his throat. Luke headed back over to the shelves, finding a lemongrass stick to burn. By the time he turned back, Ryan had set the bowl back down on the table, leaning against it in his already tiring state.

“Come on, sir. Let’s get you to bed,” He wrapped one arm around the man’s waist and kept the lemongrass in the other, the man leaning heavily on him as they began to trek through the halls of the temple. They eventually came upon the man’s office, and Luke led him through until they reached the door that led to his private chambers.

Inside, the room was strung with books and robes and the like, a collection of wands in a case in the corner. His private desk was covered in parchment, and Luke guessed he hadn’t used that area for many, many years, now. Still, a painting hung above it, displaying a young man much resembling the man he carried along with him now, if only a bit more cheerful.

He gently set the magician down on the edge of his bed, helping him strip of his thick robes until he was left in an undershirt and soft pants he used as pajamas. He pulled the covers out from under him and Ryan climbed in quickly though with a hazed look in his eye, the serum really starting to set it.

He put the lemongrass in a nearby bottle and snapped his fingers to bring about a small flicker of flame, gently letting it caress the top of the stick until a small stream of grey smoke wisped around it. He shook his wrist to put it out, letting out another sigh. He had been about to leave until a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

He had barely understood the man’s words when he mumbled into the pillow. “Please stay, Luke. I don’t wanna be alone.”

He had almost declined, wanting to say something about how it wasn’t proper; he was the Prime Magician- a Lord- and Luke was simply the temple’s doctor. But the man that had begged him to stay by his side in that moment was nothing but a man- simple as that. So, he shed his robes until he was left in his underclothes, slipping off his shoes and climbing into the bed next to Ryan. 

His skin was a lot colder than Luke would have thought it’d be. Perhaps that’s why he had wanted him to stay; if only, for one night, he could be warm, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo i really like comments to know how im doing with this fic k thanks also expect some slight gore in later chapters like yall knew this was coming theres just a lot of death in this story. also, evan has a daddy that isnt del would ya look at that


	8. Vice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter likes to switch perspectives back and forth a lot for dramatic effect, sorry about that

He hadn’t even been at the temple for three weeks and had already broken into the Prime Magician’s library, spoken to his teacher’s dead father, and learned next to nothing to defeat the Horseman. If they truly believed in him to right the wrongdoings among their community, they ought to find some with some actual potential- or, even better, some sense, since these people probably thought he was rid of something as sane as that.

When he had woken up after his visit with Fong Sr., he had at first thought it to be nothing but a dream. However, the lone, dark feather on his bedside table proved otherwise, and a fussy raccoon in the morning proved it even more so. He ultimately decided not to speak of it, since he would be in very great trouble if he even uttered a word about his presence near those items. 

Although, it was hard to keep something like that from Evan- for one, it was his deceased father, and two, he found he rather _liked_ talking to him. He always remained quiet come times where Jonathan could speak, and established eye contact to prove that his ears were open. However, he held his tongue, if only for once in his Umbris-forsaken life.

And so, in his own little world, life went on just as casually- studying, practicing magic, failing at his practices, eating, sleeping, and doing it all again.

~#~

“Try again.”

Jonathan took a deep breath, straightening out his back and gritting his teeth in irritation. He looked down at the large rock on the ground, pointing his wand at it. The spell rang in his head like a chant, yet it didn’t seem to have any effect on his target.

“Delendis rit conferatur!” He declared, flicking his wrist. A small orb of light emitted but didn’t soar, instead simply doing dim again. He cursed under his breath, rubbing his eyes. Next to him, Evan tapped his foot anxiously, letting out a sigh. “It isn’t working, Master Fong. I’m sorry.”

“It will work. The spell takes practice, and you will practice it until you have accomplished the task. Try again.” Jonathan complied, though more hesitant and low-spirited (it continuously went down with each time he spoke the words).

“Delendis rit conferataur!” Once again, no response other than a dimming ball of blue magic. So, he tried again, and again, and again, until finally, his body felt too tired to even raise his arm. He rubbed his eyes again, though, this time, he wiped his tears of stress and anxiety. He couldn’t do it. He just _couldn’t_. How was he able to managed using one of the Prime Magician’s spells perfectly on the first go, and yet, when he attempted spells in much lower tiers of power, he was utterly unable? Not to mention how his magic had a much greater effect on extremely simple spells.

Evan approached his side, reaching his hand out as if to gently touch his arm, before he slowly let it drop to his belt. He grabbed his own wand, aiming it towards the rock. “Delendis rit conferataur.” He spoke weakly, and the rock practically shattered where it lay. Jonathan let out a shaking breath, letting his arms fall to his side. “Go nap. Your lessons are canceled, for the day. I’ll wake you up at lunch.”

He looked to Evan, though the man refused to look back, his eyes aimed towards the ground. It took him a few moments to process his words, his tired state putting his entire body in a rather lagging position. Still, he nodded, not sure what words to use.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever slept more deeply in his life than in those few hours.

~#~

“Come in,” The Prime Magician called, and leaned watched as Craig made his way slowly through the door. His eyes widened as he took his hat from the surface of the desk next to him, quickly fitting it on his head as he stood. “Oh, hello, Master Thompson.”

“Evening, sir,” The man responded, and Ryan quickly made his way to his little table. He pointed to the chair closest to the door.

“Sit, sit. What’s the matter, young man?” As he sat upon his chair, he flicked his wrist, summoning the still-steaming pot of tea. Craig only stared at the table as his drink was poured, his hands refusing to meet the small handle. “Master Thompson?”

The man bit his lip, sighing. “It’s about Sparky.” Ryan’s lips had nearly touched the rim of the glass until he paused, setting it back down on the small china plate. He whisked their tea away, seeing as Craig wouldn’t care for it and, quite frankly, tea wasn’t very appropriate, at the time.

“What about him?” Ryan crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair. Craig took another moment to answer.

“It’s his birthday, today.” They both fell silent, and Ryan bit his lip as a heavy feeling fell into his stomach.

“It _was_ his birthday, you mean.” Craig remained silent, his eyes closing for a few brief seconds. Ryan waited patiently. Time was all he had.

“Yeah.”

-

Evan was hesitant to give more than a few soft knocks. He didn’t come here often- never really had the time nor reason to- but, with the occasion of doubt, he never had much choice. Of course, he didn’t mind going here, it simply made him feel...weak. 

He waited a few long moments, about to think of knocking again, when he heard swift footsteps quickly approaching. He caught the attention of nearby squirrels, approaching him ever so slowly- interested in a bond- but he only smiled as the door opened.

A woman, perhaps in her late fifties, stood holding a book in her hand, glasses perched at the edge of her nose. Her blank look resembled that of Evan’s, and although his altered into a more gleeful look, her’s remained the same.

“Evan.”

He smiled. “Hi, mom. Can I come in?”

-

“It’s my fault,” Craig spoke, tapping anxious fingers on the table. “I just know it. If I hadn’t been such an idiot, I could have just pulled out my wand…”

He sniffed, his eyes wet with oncoming tears. Silently, Ryan took the hat from atop his head and stuck his hand in, digging until he found his handkerchief. He handed it to his pupil, biting the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t often he served as a therapist, but when he did, he wasn’t very good at it.

“Tell me what had happened to make you so angry, Craig.” He questioned, placing a hand beneath his chin as he leaned to the right of his chair.

“I-I...my mom accepted a job- from the House of Lords.”

“Go on.”

“Dad had already left to work there a few years before, and when I told Tyler, he only told me to get over it- because, you know, he’s kind of a prick-” Ryan nodded in agreement. “And we started yelling, and I accidentally gave him a cramp in his leg.”

“Accidentally?” Craig paused, sighing.

“Purposely.”

“Then, what happened?” Craig licked his chapped lips, shaking his head to himself. Ryan tapped his fingers against his chin. He would need to trim his beard, he reminded himself.

“I left for an early scouting mission in Buenos Aires.”

“Argentina?”

“Argentina, yeah.”

“Why there?”

“I don’t know, I just...I guess no one else really scouted there- no one at this temple, anyway,” Ryan nodded, urging him on. Craig placed his glasses in front of him, eyes still aimed at the temple. “It was already around seven in the afternoon…”

-

Evan took a long sip of his tea, looking around the room. The air was awkwardly still, even with his mother pouring her own cup on the couch across from him. He tapped his fingers against the glass. “I love what you’ve done with the place. Did anyone help you rearrange?”

“I’m fifty-nine, Evan. I’m not going to throw my back out moving a couch,” He nodded, taking another sip of his tea. It burned the roof of his tongue, and he pulled out his wand to cool it down a bit, before his mother stopped him. “You know the rules, Evan. No magic in the house.”

He sighed, sliding it back into his belt. “Sorry, mom.”

“Is there any particular reason why you’re here, Evan?” He set his cup down on the table beside his chair, crossing one leg over the other. He took off his hat, setting it on the spot next to him. It felt oddly strange without Vanoss sitting upon it; he’d had to leave him at the temple, as much as he hated it. His mother never liked animals in the house- she, like other mortals, prefered to live like her own.

“I’m in need of advice,” He admitted. “I was hoping you could help me.”

“I’m no magician.”

“And I’m no Lord.” They both gave each other an eye before raising their cups to their lips, taking a small sip. He was silent for a few moments before resuming his explanation. “It’s about my new student. You know, in the letter I sent you?”

“Yeah. I found that damn owl at my window with his beady eyes, scared the _hell_ out of me.”

“Mom, you live in the wilderness.”

“I feed squirrels, not owls. Now keep talking, I wanna read my book,” Evan scoffed humorously, shaking his head.

“So, you know...he’s the Chosen One. He’s a pretty important guy,” His mother nodded. “His fate depends on me and what I teach him. He’s learning- he can recite half the basic spells already- but he just isn’t able to actually... _perform_ the spell.”

He went silent as his mother took another sip of tea, humming. He waited patiently (she became very irritated when rushed). He sat up in her seat, crossing her legs. “His mother was just the same. She was so powerful, she could barely handle simple spells. Sometimes, you’d have to trick her brain just to get one done.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’d put a wand in her hand, hold a slip of paper in her hand and make her read it before she realized it was a spell. It was a game his father your own would play for fun; ‘who can get poor little Rosey to say the most basic spells? Who knows’.”

“Was there any way to fix that?” Evan asked her, leaning forward. “And what was the problem, exactly?”

-

“Sparky and I stalked around for a little while. I didn’t expect there to be any trouble- we were in _Argentina_ , for Umbris’ sake. Why would the Horseman send any of his men there?” Ryan nodded, eyebrows raising slightly in agreement. “So, I got him a steak, if only to feel better about myself. You know how jaguars are with their food.

“I had been just about to call it a night when they just sort of…” He attempted a hand gesture before his arms dropped into his lap. He took the handkerchief and wiped his eyes again, biting his lip. “Swooped in.”

He went silent, and Ryan fiddled with one of the rings on his hand before resting his palm against his head. “And then what happened?”

Craig fiddled with his hands, licking his chapped lips once more. “I...I fucked up.”

“Tell me how, Craig.” Their eyes met, burrowing into the others’ like a drill. They remained completely still until the younger spoke once again.

“I-I got angry…” Their eyes remained locked on each other’s, Craig’s eyes now brimming with tears at an alarming speed. “I wanted to make the kill quick...and I used my ability when I should have used my wand, but…”

“But what, Craig?” The boy sniffed, tears finally falling. However, the handkerchief stayed in his lap.

“But it hit Sparky, instead.”

-

“She was too full of energy! She was probably more powerful than the entire temple combined; it would take a million hurricanes to even hinder her power, it seemed,” Evan listened with severe intent, the foot upon his crossed leg bouncing impatiently. “At first, they tried sedation spells, relaxation spells- even that weird honey-looking substance the Prime Magician always carries around. But they realized that these spells only made her performance weaker, and made her body exhausted.”

“So what did they do?”

“Well, they didn’t do anything,” Evan’s eyebrow raised. “She just learned to sit still.”

-

Ryan quickly slid the hat off of his head once more, reaching in and grabbing Ohm- whom, of which, seemed to get into his carrott stash, again. He placed the hat upon his head again and stood, approaching Craig’s side. 

“Here, Ohm’s good at healing,” The boy looked up curiously through his saddened state, and Ryan slid the animal onto his lap. Craig only stared at the rabbit for a few long seconds before he began to stroke the animal’s fur. The Prime Magician slid back into his seat with a sigh.

It took a good five minutes before the younger spoke. “I hate my power,” He admitted. “It would be much useful for someone else.”

“Umbris gifted you with your ability for a reason, Craig.”

“So she could watch me _suffer_?” He spat, and Ryan was taken slightly aback. “For the last two years, I’ve been in complete agony; it’s all my fault Sparky’s dead, and it feels like I’ll betray him if I take up another affiliate. If only I hadn’t been so _careless_ -”

“Thompson.” The student fell silent at the harsh tone in Ryan’s voice, biting the inside of his lip. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. “Why don’t we have some tea?”

-

“Luckily, my husband was exceptionally skilled in the art of meditation. He could probably sit there all day without dozing off or leaving; all he needed was the wilderness, Vanoss, and perhaps a few candles. So, he offered to help her- and within the week, she was already casting every spell in the books.”

“So that’s it?” Evan asked, his mood dropping. “I just need to teach him to meditate?” 

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“But mom, he _can’t_ meditate. That’s the issue.” Evan stated, and his mother sighed. “He’s too full of power to sit still for five minutes- his mind won’t ever let up. For that, I’m sure of it.”

“You know, I’ve never been a big fan of the ‘nothing is impossible’ saying, but I think it applies to this situation very nicely,” She responded with a snappy tone. “Don’t work yourself up over this. He’ll learn in time; he’s the Chosen One- he can learn anything you want him to.”

-

Craig rushed through the halls, tears threatening to spill once more. He’d had tea with the Prime Magician though was unable to finish, instead excusing himself early. He felt even worse than when he’d walked in, and he started to question whether or not revising the past was truly a good way to leave it all together.

He kept his head low as he passed Tyler in the hall, attempting to remain quiet in his state of sorrow. However, he fell undone when the man placed a hand on his torso, leaning in close. Craig fell into his chest, burying his face in the smooth fabric of Tyler’s robes. His glasses pressed uncomfortably to his face, the elder’s clothing wetting with tears.

Tyler remained silent as he wrapped an arm around Craig’s shoulders, their bodies pressed close as he guided the shorter man to his bedroom. It took them longer than anticipated to reach Craig’s door, but soon, they flew through it, the one as mentioned before not even hesitating to kick off his sandals carelessly and burrow a hole beneath the covers.

He felt Tyler’s presence beside him, sinking into the side of the mattress. He looked up at him as the other placed a hand on his arm, using the same hand to slide the glasses off of his face. They only continued to glance at each other, a saddened gaze meeting red stained cheeks.

They were silent before Tyler spoke, filling the soundless void. “You look better than you think you do without glasses,” Craig let out a broken laugh, his smile soon fading again. Tyler placed a hand on his cheek, refusing to lean in closer. “Tell me what happened.”

Craig sniffed, scooting closer to the other. “I went to the Prime Magician, like you said.”

“I assume that didn’t turn out well?” Craig shook his head, feeling more tears that refused to fall. However, Tyler pulled out his wand, aiming it towards the door. “Kino, Archie, Chief- de summonendo.”

Seconds later, the three forespoken affiliates came trotting through the door, Chief not wasting any time to jump on the bed alongside his master. Craig reached up to pet the breed with a fond smile, Archie joining while Kino prefered to remain by Tyler’s side.

“Scoot over,” Tyler nudged Craig with his arm, receiving a groan as he in turn nudged Chief. The elder climbed in beside him, sighing as he fell back into the soft pillows. It must have been an instinct for Craig to throw his arm over the larger man, letting out a sigh of his own. They remained silent with the younger still letting out a sniffle here and there, before they ceased completely.

“I miss him, Tyler.” Craig admitted, his hold tightening. Tyler wrapped his own arm around the man, leaning down to place a kiss on his head. 

“I know you do, Craigory,” This drew another laugh out of him, and Tyler’s lips perked into a rare smile. “But mourning takes time, some more than others. This’ll pass- don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Craig questioned. Closing his eyes, Tyler could only think of one answer:

“Never more so.”

-

“You know,” His mother took a final drink of her tea before setting the empty cup on the table. “Your father used to give me all of those inspirational speeches- don’t give up, go for your dreams- it made me sick,” Evan laughed. “But no matter how much I hated them, I always knew he was right.”

They fell silent for a few moments before Evan spoke, again. “What was he like?”

“Your father?”

“Yeah,” His mom sighed, crossing her arms and leaning back in thought. A few moments passed before she piped up. 

“He was a very positive, loving man in private- but around anyone excluding Jonathan’s parents and myself, he was one of the most serious magicians in all of Asia. I guess that just comes with the power of authority.”

“He was a master, right?”

“Practically a _Lord_ , but he never accepted the position. ‘Complained how he’d barely get to see me if he was away for so long at a time,” Evan smiled. He could imagine it vividly in his mind; he’d never seen his father, but his mother once explained that he very much resembled his son. She nearly had a heart attack when she first saw Evan in nearly the same clothes his father wore, and it didn’t really help when his father’s owl still positioned itself on his hat the same way he’d done years before.

“Things would have been better,” Evan admitted, “If only Umbris had waited longer to birth the Chosen One. Or, maybe, waited _less_ time.”

“Sometimes, I wish the same thing- I’m sure we all do,” She replied. “But you cannot reason with a god. Umbris has her _own_ reasoning to do. She has been moving her pawns for centuries, and now, she’s moving her knight.”

Evan looked down at his empty cup, biting his lip. “I don’t think I’m ready for this, mom.” 

“Ready for what?”

“Ready for this position,” He replied, setting the cup down on the coffee table before him. “I don’t feel like I’m the right one to be teaching Jonathan. He’d be much better off with the Prime Magician- that’s just common sense.”

“The Prime Magician chose you to train the Chosen One because he saw something in you that he must not have seen in himself,” She replied. “While you two are very much alike, he lacks the ambition you carry on your shoulders. His burdens- some he’s carried for many, many years- weigh him down, while you still manage to keep a straight posture.”

“What burdens?” Evan inquired, sitting on the edge of the couch cushion. “How much do you know about the Prime Magician?”

“I am in no place to tell, and you are in no place to hear,” Evan sat back, tapping anxious fingers against the fabric of his trousers. “It is a wonder how your father even had the courage to tell me. However, I have no doubt the Prime Magician will tell you his story at some point- though, he does have a habit of mentoning things at the last minute, or even worse, in bad situations.”

“Why is he so secretive?” Evan questioned. “Why can’t he just speak what’s on his mind?”

His mother sighed, leaning over to pour more tea into her cup. Evan watched it spill slowly from the spout, unconsciously biting his lip once more. She only responded once she had leaned back again, shaking her head.

“These last thirty years have been very difficult, I’m sure you know,” Evan nodded. “Not only does he have to deal with the Horseman’s henchmen around every corner and keeping his temple heavily guarded, but there are also some things that...are damaging him. Like an aging toy soldier.

“The last time I spoke to the Prime Magician- when you were just a toddler- he’d already been losing sleep. I have no doubt his mind is plagued with nightmares and the such. Your father had always joked that it was some sort of PTSD, but every time the Prime Magician and I would come into contact, it began to seem less and less like passive fun.”

“Do you still talk to him?” He asked. His mother hummed as she sipped her tea.

“Through letters, yes. Though, with how time has passed, we can start a topic of conversation, and continue it in the next letter a year from then.”

“You can remember exactly what you told him a year apart?”

“Well, usually, it’s about his rabbit, so I can always just assume,” They shared a laugh, seeming to brighten the mood a bit. Their conversation began to merge into something more along the lines of the squirrels his mother took care of, but he still couldn’t get the thought of the Prime Magician out of his head.

For all twenty-nine years of his life, the Prime Magician hadn’t told Evan a single thing about his own, not even so much as an age or names of siblings. Yes, he knew his elder was old, but he couldn’t be more than fifty. In fact, he looked much closer to thirty, but he’d seen more interesting things with how much he patrolled cities around the world. 

He couldn’t help but feel somewhat betrayed. In fact, he was sure he’d felt that way his entire life- he’d just kept a blind eye to it.

~#~

“What did you see, Master?” The man tapped his fingers delicately against the object in his hands, they then coming to a pause at his subject’s question. He shifted in his chair, sighing.

“They’re becoming weaker. That fool they have as their weapon isn’t quite as powerful as they thought,” The man then stood, reaching for his tie and loosening it as he paced slowly towards the window. “That’s all they are, Brian- _fools_. They’re unable to open their eyes and see what really lies before them.”

“And what would that be, Master?”

The man let the tie carelessly slip from his fingers, landing ever so gently on the carpeted floor beneath his feet. He sighed again. They’d have to leave, soon; they’d been wasting far too much time.

He turned back to the man standing before him. In a eerily bored tone, he answered: “Death.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> evan has a MAMA


	9. On Melancholy Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blood and gore blood and gore blood and gore

“You’re leaving me here?” Jonathan turned to face Evan, whom of which, was heading straight towards the portal they’d entered through. The magician sighed, and Vanoss came to land on his hat once more. Around them, the forest was alive, the melodic waves of singing birds and chirping crickets with the rustling of leaves in the slight wind. The trees were beginning to resume their cycle with vibrant oranges, yellows and reds strung around every branch as far as his eye could see. “What do you expect me to do?”

“I’ve already told you- mediate. Don’t stop trying until you master it. I’ll be back in four hours and, hopefully by then, you’ll have accomplished something. I’ve set up a barrier to keep you from running, and to keep everything from coming in, so I wouldn’t worry too much about your safety.”

“So your plan was to just abandon me in the middle of the woods with no way to fend for myself? What am I supposed to do about food?”

“We had lunch half an hour ago.” 

“That doesn’t matter!” Evan sighed, taking heavy strides away from the portal to stand by the edge of the large rock they stood upon. He pulled out his wand, Vanoss moving to sit by the doorway.

“Hortus in litore,” He declared, a small burst of light emitting from the end of his wand. It took a moment, but within seconds, vines began to slowly creep their way up the rock they stood on, beginning to stretch to the sky and wind their way around and above the platform they stood upon. He began to notice how they took shape; it was much like a very high dome, the vines coming to weave their own ceiling and burst their own lilies from their stalks. Towards the edge of the rock, where sunlight gently strung through the vines, a cushion of sorts had been constructed with a patch of soft grasses and daisies. The scent of the forest was much bolder, now, though much for the better.

Jonathan’s chest began to flutter with awe, eyes wide at the sight. He hadn’t known magic could be used in such a marvelous way- not to mention someone as stern and reserved as Evan would even care to learn spells of such innocent beauty. He found himself intrigued, wondering if Evan would have time time to teach him such magic, or perhaps, show off his own skill- not to impress, but simply for the pleasure of the viewer.

“Are you satisfied?” Evan complained, stuffing his wand back into his belt. Jonathan smiled.

“Very.”

“I’ll take my leave, then.” Evan turned back to the portal, holding out his arm for Vanoss to mount as he did so. However, right before he passed through, he spun around and looked to Jonathan with a look resembling some sort of melancholic worry. “Good luck, Jonathan.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to say, but nodded anyway, and let the first words that came to mind fly from his lips. “Thank you, Master Fong.”

Evan departed from the area, the doorway closing seconds later. Jonathan felt anxiety began to stir in his chest, tightening its grip on his lungs like a snake. He took a moment for himself to breathe a few deep breaths before collecting his thoughts, looking around.

His eyes landed on a single doe beyond the confines of his little sanctuary. She only stared up at him with beading eyes, standing completely still. The second he took a step forward, she bolted, running back into the underbrush. He clicked his tongue, sighing a moment after. He made his way to the edge of the rock, climbing down the smaller boulders until his feet landed heavily upon the forest floor.

He held his hand out in front of him in curiosity, licking his dry lips as he resumed his steps, though slower. Soon enough, he felt his hand touch something solid, although the space before him appeared to be nothing but air. He groaned. Evan hadn’t been kidding. 

Hastily, he climbed back up his rock once again, taking a heavy seat upon the makeshift mat of flowers and grasses. It was quite comfortable, actually. Still, even the plushness of his new seat couldn’t distract him from longing his affiliate, nor could it silence his stomach’s demand for more macaroni (Evan restricted him from eating too much at meals, which he found the furthest thing from pleasant). 

For a minute or two, he simply sat there, staring out at the forest beyond his little safe haven, tapping his fingers against his legs. He then groaned once more, reaching for his sandals and pulling them off with severe haste before returning to a bored state. It took him yet _another_ minute to finally cross his legs and straighten his back, closing his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. However, when he finally began to relax- the sounds of the birds and the crickets becoming mere background noise- the anxiety in his chest began to melt away, drip by drip. His lungs steadied, inhaling long, deep breaths without having to remind himself.

And- at that moment- he’d found peace.

He must have sat there for hours unmoving, his mind lost in its own daze of empty bliss. All of his problems and responsibilities seemed to be lifted from his shoulders, if only for a little while, yet something kept his mind from unconsciousness as he sat doing absolutely _nothing_ for three entire hours.

He was snapped out of his daze by the soft breaking of a twig, and his eyes blinked open as his eyes befell on the same doe as he’d seen hours ago- only, this time, she had friends. _Many_ friends. All of the forests creatures- deer, birds, a family of mooses, even large bears, now stood beyond the invisible wall between them. And, just as his mind began to process the situation, the animals each began to bow to him- one by one.

Soon, every animal was either kneeling or holding a wing over their bosoms, each creature with their heads low. Jonathan stood to his feet, his mind buzzing with bewilderment as he gazed out at all the creatures. The doe, standing at the front of the crowd, suddenly tipped her head back, letting out a booming, almost deafening call.

One by one, each of the animals began to sing along to her song- and it was at that moment, that Jonathan truly began to believe in fate.

~#~

“Faster,” Marcel declared through his swift motions, swinging the knife near Jonathan’s abdomen. He quickly took a step back, moving to swing his own blade once more, though with more stealth. He saw the man smile, and his heart really began to pump with adrenaline.

They went like that for Umbris knows how long, back and forth and so on. Evan leaned on the open doorway, arms crossed as Vanoss worked on swallowing a small lizard beside him. A smile began to creep its way onto his face, his chest beginning to lighten some. Things were starting to change for the better.

~#~

“You’re doing fine,” Craig repeated once more, his shoulders slouched. Jonathan raked his fingers through his hair and sighed, refusing to look at the orange sitting not too far away on a stone pedestal. He just couldn’t lift it, and an exceptionally depressed Craig wasn’t helping much, either. He had tried to ask him why he was acting so strangely, and his mentor only shrugged the question off with the excuse of their little time to train.

“I don’t know, Master Thompson…” He sat down on a nearby bench, rubbing his eyes with his wand between his digits. Craig moved to sit by him, Rocket sprawling across Jonathan’s feet. “Maybe it’s just not possible.”

Craig didn’t respond.

~#~

“Delendis rit conferatur!” The orb of light at the end of his wand shot straight towards the large rock, and Jonathan watched in shock as the entire boulder exploded into pieces the size of pebbles. He lowered his wand, letting out a scof of surprise. He turned to Evan, smiling. His teacher had the same expression on his face, arms still crossed. “I did it,” he cried. “I did it!”

Jonathan wrapped his arms around Evan’s neck and began to cheer hysterically into his shoulder, and the younger gave a few chuckles of his own, only managing to pat the man’s bac in shock. He had never been used to physical contact- but for that moment, he could make an exception. 

~#~

He shot his head towards the door as soft knocks sounded on the thin wood, closing the book he’d barely been paying attention to. “Come in,” Jonathan called, setting the novel aside. The door slid open and Evan leaned on the doorway, still dressed in his scouting gear. “Yeah?”

“Get up. We’re going to London.”

“London?” He repeated, sitting up as Evan invited himself into his bedroom, making a beeline towards the wardrobe that still stood open. “Why are we going to London?”

“You’ve been here for a month,” Evan announced, grabbing Jonathan’s outfit- including his cloak- and tossing it on the bed. “You’ve learned basic and semi-advanced spells, including combat spells. It’s time you get off your ass.” 

“I barely know anything other than how to use an orb as a defense bubble and grow flowers- everything else is shaky-”

Evan turned to him, crossing his arms in frustration. “When I was nine, I was sent on my first scouting mission alone with little to no knowledge, since my brain couldn’t fully process many of the spells. I managed to kill two henchmen in Barcelona. If a nine year old can do that, I’m sure you can, too.”

Jonathan sighed, standing to his feet with a groan and sliding the robes from his shoulders. As he was about to slip the shirt from his back, he paused under the gaze of his superior, before resuming once more. The wind coming through his open window, now chillier with the changing season, hit his tattooed skin in small gusts, and he quickly reached for the jacket with the jape attached to its shoulders.

“Two questions,” Evan piped up.

“Shoot,” He responded.

“Why would you take off your undershirt, and what do the tattoos on your back symbolize?” Jonathan turned to him, pausing with the jacket in his hand. He thought of the imprints on his back, their meanings clear as day, in his eyes. Still, he hesitated while answering.

“There are a few Japanese symbols,” Jonathan looked down at his feet, beginning to feel somewhat self-conscious about his form; he’d never considered the whole lanky skin-and-bones thing to be a good feature, but he found it extremely difficult to gain weight, in the first place. “It means ‘heishi,’ or- ah- soldier, I guess.”

“And the phoenix with all of those flowers?” Evan took steps closer, and Jonathan looked over his shoulder before undoing his belt. The trousers David had given him were much better for combat, Evan had told him.

“The orchids represent bravery and prosperity, depending on which culture you’re looking at. The lotus’ mean something along the lines of knowledge and enlightenment, understanding, maybe. And the phoenix- I guess I just wanted something to represent strength. Hasn’t really worked out for me, though.”

He dressed in silence, and Evan moved along to sort through his books; at first, he only glanced, and then took it upon himself to rearrange them in some order he couldn’t quite see. He assumed Evan had some sort of OCD, though he found it improper to mention, so he kept his tongue hushed.

He had been tying his boots when Rocket came prancing it, making a high-pitched noise in her throat as she jumped upon the mattress. Jon briefly pet her head before continuing his work, only to raise his head in question when Vanoss came soaring in, landing upon the wardrobe’s surface. His mind flashed back to the events of what seemed like only days ago. Rocket seemed to feel the same, as she then hissed at the owl across the room, and Vanoss was no less than to rebuttal with a warningful screech.

Evan whisted for his owl, the bird landing upon his arm as he looked down upon her in confusion. “I guess they aren’t getting along,” He mumbled, raising his am as to let Vanoss jump on his hat.

Jonathan swallowed in his throat, shaking his head. “I guess not,” Jonathan mumbled before standing to his feet, straightening out the jacket. The cape felt a bit heavy, though in a rather pleasing way. He guessed he just liked knowing it was there.

They quickly made their exit, rapid steps towards the portal chamber. As they reached its corridor, his eyes once again befell on the doors leading to the storage room of the sacred items, now sealed. He wondered how Vanoss had opened it. And, thinking back to it, there were, what, two items missing from their podiums? One, he knew, was the Star of Umbris, which currently resided within the hands of the Prime Magician. The other couldn’t quite come to mind; if the book was there with the rod and the pendant, which only left the eye-

“Come quickly, Jonathan,” He snapped his eyes to Evan, whom of which, was standing somewhat bewildered in the doorway of the portal chamber. He nodded, moving past the man swiftly with Rocket at his heels. He stopped in front of an empty space at the wall, turning to his teacher. “Go on; you remember the spell. The city is ‘Londinensi.’”

He nodded again, taking the wand from his belt and raising it to the stone. Feet planted firmly on the ground, he reduced the rate of his breaths, clearing his mind. “Portal ad Londinensi,” Before him, the portal opened, and he grinned to himself. Evan clamped a hand on his shoulder as he moved past, standing by the doorway.

“Apprentices first.”

“I feel like it should be the veteran, first-”

“Hush, Jonathan. Go on,” They both smiled to themselves with the humor of the situation, the air oddly yet soothingly light. He complied with his teacher’s order, calling along his affiliate as he made his way through the portal.

He found himself in yet another empty alleyway, and turned back to the portal as Evan stepped through with Vanoss latched to his forearm. The man looked to Jonathan expectantly, and he raised his wand to the air as to affect the lot of them. “Invisibilatem clypeus.”

“You’re learning quickly- I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” Evan beckoned him along, and they swiftly made their way out of the alleyway and onto the uncrowded streets of nighttime-London. He looked to his feet to make sure Rocket was still by his side before keeping his eyes ahead, alert for any dangers. “How often is it you run into an opponent?”

“Not as often as you’d like it to be,” Evan pointed his wand to the sky, interrupting his own sentence. “Recurrat astri Equitis- but, luckily, we have spells as such to help us track down any rummaging around.”

A bright orb was shot into the sky, exploding into ten others and each then heading in their own separate directions. “What happens when they find one?”

“It’ll come back and guide us there.”

“That’s pretty handy.”

“Very useful, yeah.” They fell into a silence as their steps began to slow, the only sounds that of passing cars on wet pavement and their own footsteps. He thought of a conversation starter, since he’d never been too fond of awkward silence. He could have asked a question, if only he knew more about Evan. Maybe that was what he should interrogate him about.

“I talked to the Prime Magician,” He began. “He wouldn’t give me any dirt on your childhood. ‘Said nothing really happened.”

“And he was right. My childhood was very plain, despite worrying over filling my teacher’s shoes.”

“From the tale you told me about your first mission, I’d assume differently.”

“It’s the same for every kid- well, most. Usually, they’re thirteen, and, ah, wielding developed brains. And usually they don’t find an opponent- but that doesn’t matter,” Evan’s mind seemed to be rapidly changing with his words. Jonathan guessed he wasn’t too fond with talking of his childhood. “The point of the matter is, it’s been boring up until this point. The only difference between other kids and I was that I had a little too much magic to spend.”

He hummed in reply, quiet as to not upset the man with his tedious questions. The silence, lasting far too long, was broken when Evan piped up in a bizarrely hesitant tone, one not suited for a man of such power. “What about you?”

Jonathan’s mind took a moment to process the question. “Sorry?”

“Your past,” He replied. “None of us really know anything about you other than the fact that you’re the Chosen One,” Jonathan hummed in reply, pondering the right words. Evan was right; the only person who knew even the slightest bit of detail was the Prime Magician, and he wasn’t even sure his elder knew exactly what had happened, either. Still, it didn’t make him any more comfortable talking about it. But if Evan was willing to share his (plain) story, he may as well.

“It’s been a little rocky, sorry,” He admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I grew up in an orphanage. I kinda wanted to get adopted all throughout those years, but it just...couldn’t happen.”

“Why not?” Jonathan licked his lips, thinking back to the day he had been visited at the orphanage. It was hard to believe it was the same man that had put him there in the first place, not to mention his teacher’s _father_.

“Ah- I guess I was just too quiet for any people who came through.” Lying through his teeth was painful- not only for himself, but it seemed rather off-putting for Evan, as well. The man’s eyebrows stitched together for a brief moment before he looked back at the ground, and Jonathan clenched his hands by his sides as they continued. “They kicked me out when I was sixteen with a bundle of cash and my belongings, since- I don’t know- I guess they just do that with every kid who doesn’t get adopted.”

“Where did you go?” Evan questioned, his voice softer, now.

“I...I met a guy- a guy with money, and, ah…” Evan stopped, and Jonathan halted in his steps as well, wanting to stuff his hands in his pockets only to remember he had none. He carefully considered his words, though there was no decent way to put them. “He was willing to lend me some, let me stay in his apartment, as long as I….did _chores_.”

Evan bit his lip, looking to the ground. He let out a sigh, his breath visible in the chilled air. “They must not have been very good chores,” He spoke after a moment.

“They got me by long enough to find a job and get the hell out, that’s for sure,” They began walking again until they reached the edge of the street, waiting in uncomfortable silence for the light to turn.

“I’m guessing nothing too shocking happened after that?” Evan began as they reached the opposite side of the road.

“Well, I- I got into gaming.”

“Gaming?”

“Yeah. Scraped up enough money to buy the latest console and the latest game, and I went from there…” He mumbled, his mind racing with unspoken words. He didn’t want to tell Evan. He really didn’t. Right now, Evan thought he was all good and pure, and he could have only hoped it would always remain so. Though, he had to wonder- would there ever come a day in which he would have admitted his faults, even if they had not come to the situation they resided in, now?

“That can’t be all,” Evan interrupted his thoughts. “There’s a reason why you’re telling me this.”

He kept his eyes straight ahead, taking the edges of his cape and draping it around his shivering arms, tucking it close to his chest, whilst Evan and Vanoss remained unfazed. “I became addicted.”

Evan remained silent.

“I filled the empty hole in my chest with games and eventually booze when I wasn’t working long shifts. I’d run on few hours of sleep and any food I had in my fridge just so I could afford any liquor when the game costs weren’t in my favor. And when the liquor costs weren’t in my favor...I tried to smuggle it. Succeeded with the booze, felt proud about it. Did it a few more times, felt even better. Tried it with a game, landed a year in prison.

“After I served my time, I was on the streets for a few nights before I met the same guy from years earlier- by some weird stroke of luck- and he let me stay in his apartment for a couple days. No more chores, just pity and a few rolls of cash.”

“The Prime Magician says people eventually change with the years.”

“I guess that applied to that dude, then. He recommended a job at a grocery store- worked for next to minimum wage. Still, I took it, and he pitched in a few words to make it a little easier for them to accept me.

“I worked from the bottom and got back a gaming console, but I didn’t want to fall into another hole with booze- that was what really messed me up. I still think about it, every now and then, but it’s, erm, in the past…”

Evan was silent for a few more moments, eyes still aimed at the concrete they walked upon. He finally took a quivered breath. “I should have tried harder to find you.”

“Huh?” He retorted, and Evan let his hands fall limp to his sides. 

“I searched years hoping I’d find some trace of the Chosen One, even if the Prime Magician said it was useless, and that Umbris would ‘guide him to his own.’ I still think that, maybe if I’d searched harder, I could have found you sooner.”

“How _did_ you find me, anyway?” Jonathan inquired, stopping at the edge of the road as cars passed.

“I don’t really know. I was scouting in Washington D.C and found some henchmen on the move. I went to exterminate them, and I saw them chasing you- a mortal- and I guess I just...knew.” Jonathan hummed in reply. He guessed Umbris, at the time, had moved another pawn in her game. Still, he couldn’t help but feel flattered; Evan had spent all that time chasing his destiny- which, luckily, just happened to be Jonathan.

Was he really that lucky, though? He had never really considered it. Was this life better than his last? This was his second chance, his redemption. However, he now had more responsibilities than stocking shelves or counting the cash in the register. These were people who depended on him, people who had given their lives in his name. They’d waited centuries for him to finally be found, and now, they were depending on him to destroy some ancient force. Evan, in his profound, courageous stature, had spent his entire life searching, knowing that he would be the magician to train the Chosen One, if the Knight had even appeared in his lifetime and, apparently, Umbris had made her decision that fateful moment.

“Here come the trackers,” Evan announced, his voice still light as his eyes trailed into the distance. Jonathan spotted a few, though was slightly bewildered at how slow they moved; they had gone swift like bullets when the veteran had released them, and now, they moved like a trotting horse above the buildings.

“Are they supposed to move that slow?” Jonathan pondered aloud, and Evan grunted disapprovingly.

“No…” He replied, his eyes still following the orbs as they came closer. “No, they’re not.”

“What are they doing, then?” Evan shook his head, and Jonathan’s chest began to cave in on itself. 

“I don’t know. They’ve never-” The man paused, his eyes transfixed on the sidewalk ahead. Jonathan gazed in the same direction, his eyes narrowing at the figures approaching. His mind took a moment to process what he saw. 

Every car and person walking along the road had disappeared, leaving only he, Evan and the henchmen ahead, growing closer in their heavy steps with each passing second. There must have been ten of them, each looking just as headstrong and oddly angered as the next. Somehow, his heart dropped even more, and his lungs began to tighten. 

“Get your wand,” Evan demanded, and Jonathan wasted no time in complying. Through his head, he considered each possibility, each spell he’d learnt over the past month and which would work best in the situation. He supposed ‘Delendis rit conferatur’ would do something, though he couldn’t quite tell what. Did it work on other people? Or, perhaps, he could use ‘Non cesses motus’ on their affiliates, if they even had any. However, even if he could successfully use the spell, he felt no less guilty for having to use it, in the first place. These were animals, not dolls. When they broke, they broke for good. He was sure Kino was still feeling a bit unwell from when his master had used the spell on him as demonstration.

“Jonathan Voorhees!” One of the men called, twisting a wand in his hand as he approached. Jon turned around, hoping for an escape route, only to find that they had caged he and Evan on all sides. “You are hereby sentenced to eternal captivity to pay for your hypocrisy against the Chosen One, as ordered by He himself!”

“I thought I was the Chosen One?” Jonathan mumbled, leaning closer to Evan as his eyes frantically scanned their opponents. He wasn’t ready for battle. 

“The Horseman believes he is the Chosen One, and wants to eliminate any competition to remain in his position of power. We’re their next targets- you especially.” Evan straightened his back, stepping forward.

“Leave him be. I am the imposter you seek.” Jonathan narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he let out a heavy breath of disbelief. Evan was offering himself to the enemy, if only to keep the Chosen One safe- and he wouldn’t stand for it. Evan was far too important to be tossed away in such a manner.

He stepped forward, a hand reaching out for Evan’s shoulder as the other rested above his heart. “No! He’s lying! I’m the Chosen One!”

Evan groaned, gritting his teeth. “This man is not the Chosen One! He lies!” Evan snapped his head towards Jonathan, grabbing his collar. “You keep your mouth shut and let me talk. When you have the chance- any chance- _run_.”

Jonathan continued to shake his head, his hands reaching out to the man as if to change his mind, but the henchmen were faster. They grabbed ahold of Evan’s arms, Vanoss lifting off into the sky with a deafening shriek. He felt Rocket slip away, bounding through the tangles of legs surrounding him. Jonathan could barely speak a word as they grabbed his own arms as well, dragging him away from the one man he trusted.

He kicked and flailed his arms as soundless tears began to fall, Evan looking back at him with that same stern expression, his eyes now filled with a numbing sadness and inevitable fear. Jonathan wished to call out to him but was too stunned to speak, weak sobs being the only sound other than hard feet stomping against the ground in protest. 

They pinned Evan to the hard ground, his body hitting the concrete heavily as to make a heavy thud. It was then that Jonathan seemed to lose himself- and, for a brief period of time, every single inch of sense in his head became a blur.

He could their screams and cries, though his mind couldn’t fully comprehend their pain. He could see the blood spilling from their ears and eye sockets, could see them pulling their own hair out with how much their heads pounded in agony. They all fell to their knees, unable to stand, and Jonathan remained still.

When he finally came to his senses, it was like a gunshot, piercing his heart with more guilt than he’d ever felt crashing into him in waves. He looked around, seeing Evan standing to his feet with a look of pure terror in his eyes. Jonathan let out a quivering breath, his fingers tangling in his own hair. The man came to stand by his side as Vanoss landed by their feet, Rocket quick to emerge from a nearby alley to join them.

“What happened?” Jonathan finally croaked out, his eyes still searching the bodies around them for any signs of life, only to feel immensely more terrified when he found none.

“I-I thought you knew,” Evan swallowed in his throat. “You were the one who did this.”

“...No,” He spoke after a moment, shaking his head as he began to sob. “N-No- I didn’t do this, I couldn’t have-”

Evan grabbed his shoulders, his hands then moving to Jon’s cheeks as an attempt to silence the onslaught of tears with no avail. “Keep yourself together, Jonathan. What you did- though more gruesome than need be- was good. You’ll be alright.”

Evan himself sounded just as broken, eyes struck with a fear not known for a man of his power. Even this small factor made Jonathan more so confused and hysterical, instead choosing to bury his face into the younger’s neck, his arms wrapping tightly around his back. He felt Evan hesitate before doing the same, though with a looser hold.

They stayed that way for a few moments before Evan took one of his hands and slid it up Jon’s back, letting it tangle in the man’s hair as he hushed him as a mother would to an infant. In his embarrassment, he succumbed, though he relished in the man’s effort and warm embrace. 

“I don’t want to do this, Evan,” He sobbed, sniffling as his arms wound tighter. “I don’t want to kill people…”

“You only have one man to kill, Jonathan,” Evan responded, his voice soft. “Once he’s down, his entire operation will collapse with him, and your job will be done- but, until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to stay-”

Jonathan pushed the man heavily back, Evan stumbling to regain his balance as he tripped over his owl. The apprentice fell to his knees, his hands threading through his hair so tightly Evan swore he’d pull out the strands. Jonathan only continued in his hysteric state, now heightened even more so in his sudden panic.

“I don’t _want_ to stay!” He cried, holding his hands to his chest as he gazed up at Evan through tear-stained eyes. “I don’t want to live like this! I want to go _home_!” Evan felt a brushing against his leg, seeing Rocket standing there with two wands between her jaws. He took them swiftly, grabbing his own and playing the sedative spell through his mind. “I don’t want to kill anybody! The Horseman can be the Chosen One if he wants! Just _leave me be_ -”

“Sana somno!” He flicked his wrist towards the man on the ground, quickly bounding to Jonathan’s side before he could fall onto the hard concrete. The man’s head hit Evan’s chest, once again soaking his clothing in tears. The two affiliates swiftly approached, Rocket nudging her nose into her master’s side.

“Leave him be, Rocket,” Evan spoke, sliding the man gently into his arms and lifting the body, standing to his feet. “He needs some time to himself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you feeeel the looove toniiiight
> 
> i honestly dont have an updating schedule anymore. school's a hoe. i literally only got 1k words done last week because of homecoming. but hey, more past explanations.
> 
> if yall dont understand a single goddamn thing going on in this fic, feel free to hit me up on tumblr, ask some questions. or, maybe you just wanna talk. go ahead, im all up for some education connection  
> main: halosaximus (memes and shit)  
> preferred: washingtonsmarquis (history; mostly american/french revolutions)  
> that other one: spadeetza (banana bus squad)
> 
> hint: message me @ washingtonsmarquis. i prefer to do things from there.


	10. Despacito

“His mind is in a very jumbled state, but his body is fine. Overall, he’ll probably need some time to meditate, perhaps massages or aromatherapy alongside…” Jon kept his eyes pointed to the ground, tapping his fingers gently against the edge of the table he sat upon. The Prime Magician lingered in the corner, Evan standing to Jonathan’s left. Vanoss and Rocket waited patiently for their masters to return outside the infirmary door. “Now, can you explain to me everything that happened, Jonathan? Start to finish- every emotion, every thought?”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, letting out a deep sigh before shaking his head. “There were henchmen surrounding us from all sides...the affiliates got away, but...they- they grabbed Evan, and I just...everything became a blur. Like- I could hear them, and I-I could see them in pain- I saw them dying. And when it was over, I came back to consciousness, and...I broke down.”

“I assume Master Fong’s bonding had triggered this effect?” The Prime Magician stepped out of the shadows, approaching the table. Luke quickly jotted down notes not too far away. “It was ultimately driven by fear, but his capture was a breaking point?”

“I think so…” Jonathan’s words trailed, his cheeks growing hot. Evan turned away, taking slow paces in the opposite direction. 

“If I’m not mistaken,” Luke piped up, setting his pen on the counter, his eyes aimed towards the Prime Magician. “This newfound ability is considered to be a gift?”

The elder hummed, nodding. Jonathan looked between the two before speaking. “What makes something a gift, exactly?” The Prime Magician leaned against the table, tapping his foot on the ground as he thought somewhat loudly to himself.

“A gift is something a magician wields that no other can- a power given by God. However, it is only a gift if you use it for the good.” Jonathan thought back to the events that took place in London not so many hours ago. What he’d done hadn’t been good- he’d slaughtered dozens of people without even realizing what he’d been doing, all because they tried to hurt Evan.

He had to consider that fact for a moment. What had really triggered this ‘gift?’ Was it fear for himself, or fear for his teacher? Or perhaps it was both? He could only admit to himself that, yes, he had some sort of liking towards Evan, and whether it be for his skill or his authority, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t consider it admiration, no, it was more of a distraction- a distraction from the duties Evan expected him to fulfill.

“From my understanding,” The Prime Magician spoke again, lifting the hat from his head and running his fingers through his thick, brown locks, shaking his head in slight bewilderment. “Jonathan has the ability to send his opponents into a state of mental and physical collapse when triggered. Does that sound about right?”

“I think it has more to do with mental collapse than anything,” Evan admitted, twirling his wand anxiously in his hand. “When Jonathan used his ability, it was more than pain- it was _insanity_. Some began to cry for their loved ones while others prayed to their God to be saved, and some shouted things even I couldn’t understand. They went completely delirious.”

Luke sighed, setting the pen down and rubbing his eyes in irritation. Jonathan it was sure it was the lack of answers getting to him; it was most definitely an issue if a magic doctor couldn’t even identify the symptom. Still, the doctor stood, heading over to his shelves and searching around for something or another. Soon, he pulled out a bottle, one with a piece of table used as a label rather than a proper one. 

He handed it to Evan who, in turn, looked at the label and tossed his head back to chug its contents. “That should make your limbs and head feel a bit better from the fall. And you,” He turned to Jonathan. “I recommend you take the day to meditate and clear your head so we can avoid situations like this again. I don’t want you to have to use your gift until we can properly test it and master it so innocents aren’t harmed.”

“It didn’t harm Evan?” Jonathan retorted, cocking his head at the magician having troubles swallowing the bile substance.

“That’s why we believe he being injured triggered the attack, since it didn’t affect him in the slightest. If any of our other magicians were there and the same thing happened to Evan and himself only, I would assume he would still be the only affected. So- hopefully- there’s a way you can control who you affect, and get a proper grip on your sense so you can fully comprehend your actions as you commit them.”

Jonathan only responded with a nod, his knuckles going white as his fingers gripped the edge of the table. Evan thanked the doctor as he handed back the bottle, beckoning Jon along as he trekked towards the doors. He was glad to oblige; he didn’t want to think any further of this new ‘gift’- or, in Jon’s mind, his new ‘burden’.

~#~

Evan stirred at the sharp poking on his hand, his fingers clenching into a fist as he groaned. Vanoss made a low noise in his throat, and the magician refused to open his eyes as he stretched his back. He plopped back down onto the covers, his eyes meeting that of his affiliate’s. 

“I should just get an alarm clock,” Vanoss made a sound resembling a growl, and Evan laughed to himself as he reached up to pet the owl’s feathers. The healing potion Luke had given him had made him a bit too healed, feeling lazy for the first time in ages. Still, he groggily climbed from his bed, stretching in the beams of light streaming through his window. He decidedly took his time dressing himself in his robes, choosing the maroon colored hat- this time featherless- in his wardrobe to match them. His affiliate found his way on his rightful perch the second he placed it on his head.

When he exited his room, he could only stand there in the doorway, considering his next move. He didn’t have a student to teach, and his training had ended the day he took up his apprentice. His next scouting mission wasn’t scheduled until the next night, and he had no errands to run for the Prime Magician. Therefore, he had no duties- no purpose for the day- and he couldn’t think of a single way to make it eventful. It was Saturday which meant training didn’t take place, and students would instead meditate or loiter around the temple with their friends. He was sure Marcel, Craig and Tyler were caught up in their advanced studies as Masters, so that left him alone.

And, for the first time, he was bored.

What did people usually do when they found themselves without a task? He considered stopping by Craig’s chamber for an answer, but he was sure his friend was busy, although he hadn’t seen him for a few days- which was certainly odd. So, he simply walked, hoping to find some sort of distraction.

He found himself heading towards he and Jon’s perch at the edge of the cliff (he wasn’t sure when Jonathan also took ownership of it), taking his time to gaze at all the familiar paintings and artifacts he soon found himself at the perch’s doorway, and paused at the sight beheld to him.

Jonathan was there, wand in hand, tossing around streaks of blue magic and letting them fall to the grass in light, glistening showers. The flowers decorating the ground beneath their feet began to turn the same color, with specks of shining silvers embedding is petals. Evan watched in awe; yes, he knew the spell, but he had never tested it for himself. The Prime Magician had been more concerned with whether or not he would be able to teach spells and rituals rather than turning flowers into the color of a magician’s own aura. 

Jonathan looked up, standing still in grasses that stretched to his knees. Evan only smiled fondly before taking his leave, though slower than he normally did. Something in his mind wished for Jonathan to follow, and he deemed himself a fool when he didn’t.

He had to take a few moments to consider just how much Jonathan plagued his mind. Perhaps it was out of worry. He knew Jonathan was one to cause trouble without stirring up chaos (somehow), and liked to keep a watchful eye on him as to not burn the temple down with his spells (it had nearly happened before, the Prime Magician told him). Or perhaps it was jealousy; every magician wished to one day grow o be the Chosen One, and millions of hearts had been shattered when the true Chosen One had been born. Evan had been one of these wishful people, but even if he wasn’t who he wished to be, he still felt honored to teach him.

But what did all this mean? He’d known Jonathan for a month and had found himself so strangely infatuated with his demeanor, found himself so utterly compelled by his charming, rebel attitude. It was certainly new for the temple to have a rebel in their midst, as everyone was strictly educated from birth to follow any and all laws set at the Common Houses around the globe. Perhaps the change was what he found himself attracted to most. 

When he found himself at a loss for an answer, he decided to himself that he’d have an early scouting mission- if only to gain back some of the sense he’d lost with so much worthless thinking that morning.

~#~

“Master Cunningham!” Marcel spun around as Jonathan took long strides to meet him, holding a stack of library books in one arm while he held his wand in the other. The man raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen Master Fong? He was here this morning and then he vanished.”

“Last I saw, he went on an early scouting mission and,” He gestured to the books. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking a day off to meditate?”

“I already did that, sir.”

“When?”

“Well, I started at about three in the morning and kept going until about eight. Turns out, it’s a pretty good substitute for sleep…” Marcel only glared, and Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll sleep properly tonight, but, ah,” He shifted the books in his arm, nudging them to a better position. “When will Master Fong be back?”

“I couldn’t tell you. He goes out when he’s stressed or fed-up, and doesn’t come back until he’s cooled down some. It could take hours, but he’s never gone longer than a day- not to mention that the two of you start training again tomorrow, so I’d expect some time later tonight he’ll return.”

Jonathan nodded. “Thank you, Master Cunningham.”

“You’re welcome- and Jonathan,” He turned back to face the man. “Just call me Marcel.”

~#~

“I don’t understand,” Evan admitted, taking a large bite out of the burger in his hands before setting it back down on the paper wrapping in his lap. “I’ve never felt anything remotely close to this, before?”

Vanoss chirped, and Evan only took a sip of his drink. “I mean, I guess he’s my friend, even though he shouldn’t, since he’s my student and all. Still, he’s different. In a good way- I think- but I just don’t understand why I’m so caught up with thoughts of him…”

The owl chirped again as Evan was lifting his burger, and he gasped as he set it back down harshly. “No! It is most definitely _not_ a crush, you _fiend_!” Vanoss chirped teasingly in a sing-song tone, and the magician groaned in embarrassment as he took another bite, his cheeks burning as they flushed.

He sighed, shoveling as much of his meal as he could into his mouth if only to resume his mission (or refrain from yelling at his owl for making such monstrous claims). He slumped in the bench seat and sighed, swallowing. Vanoss made low, subtle noises in his throat, and Evan let his eyes close.

“I don’t know how I feel, Vanoss. Even if I did like him, I wouldn’t be able to identify the feeling…” Vanoss chirped again, and he scoffed. “You don’t fall in love. You mate, you ass.”

He opted to use his wand to rid of the burger, suddenly feeling not as famished as he had before. He picked up his hat and placed it on his head, beckoning his owl with a clicking sound emitted from his tongue. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, no more words or noises exchanged between them- and that was that.

Though, he supposed Jonathan was fairly attractive. The tattoos were a nice feature.

~#~

Jon sighed as he trekked back onto the perch he and Evan shared, holding his stomach. He had been allowed to eat as much lunch as he dared to further the recovery without the force of magic or potions, and he’d decided to practically consume the entire buffet. He was starting to regret it, some.

As he walked, he felt his foot collide with a large, hard surface and found himself falling, much to his dismay. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, groaning. He laid there in the tall grass for a few moments before lifting his head, looking back to see that pesky boulder that had been hogging the entire perch (or so it seemed; it was really the size of few thick books stacked together). He hastily got to his feet, his veins running with considerably unnecessary anger.

_If only that boulder could just move._

And, much to his bewilderment, it did.

There it rose, straight from the ground, now hovering in the air a good couple feet away from his body. He stared at it in amazement, his mind wholly focused on that damn boulder. He tilted his head, and had an idea.

_Go smash into that cliff._

It did.

~#~

“CRAIG! CRAIG!” Jonathan ran down the hallways, racing on clumsy feet towards his mentor’s chambers. Rocket struggled to keep up, trying to keep the furious pace while also refraining from being kicked by her master’s lengthy legs.

When he arrived at his mentor’s door, he he found himself paused there in the walkway. Tyler, whom he had seen possibly even less than Craig, sat at the edge of the other’s bed, humming as he ran his fingers through the younger’s hair. Scattered among the bed were the man’s affiliates, each far past asleep, along with Craig himself who remained tucked peacefully under the thick covers. Even as Jonathan remained frozen, Tyler’s actions failed to cease.

“What do you need, Jonathan?” His voice was low enough as to not wake those asleep, yet still bold enough to be coherent. He struggled to find the words to respond.

“I-I succeeded in object manipulation. I thought it best to inform him.” Tyler hummed, whisking Jonathan away with his hand.

“I’ll tell him when he wakes up. He needs rest.”

“What for?” Jon questioned, though he was sure he crossed some sort of boundary just by being there and questioning Tyler’s methods would just make it worse.

“He isn’t in the best of moods, at the moment. For Craig, sleep is the key to happiness,” Tyler threaded his fingers through the man’s hair once more, and a few more buttons began to click in Jon’s head.

Oh.

_Oh._

“I’ll take my leave, now. Come on, Rocket,” He beckoned his affiliate, poking his head in the door one last time before letting it close. “Thank you, Master Abbott.”

~#~

“Master Fong!” Evan’s head shot up as Jonathan came pacing along, Rocket at his heel where she always was. His mind darted back to the talk he’d had with Vanoss not even half an hour ago, and he did his best to refrain from blushing in his apprentice’s presence. “Where were you?”

“I went and scouted early in Florence. I needed some time to clear by head- last night was a bit wild.” He opened the door to his chamber, beckoning the man in. Evan rid of his hat, setting it on a nearby chair with Vanoss finding his way to his perch closeby his bed.

“Florence is in Italy, right?” Evan hummed, nodding as he stripped his cape and hung it in the wardrobe. “I’ve always wanted to go to Italy…”

“I’m scheduled to go to Rome tomorrow, anyhow. I decided to visit another city in Italy just so I wouldn’t have to go there twice,” He turned to the man, working on removing his jacket. “If you are in well enough a mood to tag along, I wouldn’t mind.” 

Jonathan felt a peculiar warmth blossom within his chest, and he found himself nodding with a slight grin before he could contain himself. Although his mind was telling him no- that they would find themselves in the same situation they’d been in before- he couldn’t deny a small trip to Italy, if only for a few hours.

“I wouldn’t mind it at all, Master Fong.”

~#~

“He isn’t irritating, per say,” Craig had awoken from his slumber only minutes ago, somehow able to drag Tyler latest confession of Jonathan’s visit within a very limited time. They now continued to lay peacefully on the bed, Tyler’s bones seeming loose as the other magician ran his hands through the elder’s hair by his side. “Just...different.”

“Well, I know you’re not used to change in tradition,” Craig shifted, sliding closer to Tyler on his side, his foot gently hitting the man’s leg. “But things have been the same our entire lives. We study and fight and wait for the day the Chosen One arrives. Now that he’s here, I know you must be a little annoyed which, to be quite frank about it, isn’t anything new.”

Tyler scoffed, shifting onto his side and throwing an arm over the man’s side, pulling him even closer. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes. Craig continued to glide fingers through Tyler’s hair with his open left hand, the other choosing to slither under the pillow.

“It’s best if we just take things as they come. You and I both know that can be difficult- your parents, my...affiliate,” Tyler looked his lover dead in the eye, the mood suddenly shifting to something a bit more stately at the mention of their pasts. “We’ve made it this far. We just need to adapt.”

Tyler pressed their foreheads together, briefly biting his lip before speaking. “You never cease to amaze me, doll,” Craig smiled. “You’ve been through so much, yet you’re still able to smile, even through an armada of hurt.”

The man gave a melancholic smile. “When you do as much acting as I have, it’s hard to distinguish the truth from the disguise...luckily, I have a truth right in front of me.”

Tyler blushed, darting his eyes away with a light, cheeky grin. Craig laughed at the sight, and Tyler couldn’t hold back a few chuckles of his own. Just the familiar lightness of the other was enough for them both, a moment of peace between them. Tyler knew Craig cherished the few moments like those, where they were free to let their guards down for even a little while. Times where the entire world seemed to still, and they could fall into solitude behind private walls. 

Even still, nothing lasts forever. The sun began to fall, and Tyler knew he had a scouting mission to fulfill. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from the sleeping man by his side, slightly startling his affiliates as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. Craig groaned, reaching out for him with a blind hand.

“Where are you going?” Tyler turned back to him, sighing.

“Scouting mission,” He kissed the man’s forehead, then standing to his feet. Chief was the first to leap from the bed. “You can come along, if you want. Help me kick some ass and fight crime.” 

Craig gave a muffled laugh, lifting himself from the covers and stretching somewhat obnoxiously. He wouldn’t blame him; they’d been in bed all day. Tyler just hoped he felt better, or at least, well enough to accompany him on a mission.

He grabbed his wand from a nearby chair, too lazy to dress himself again and walk clear back to his own chamber. “Indumentis proelium,” He droned, finding himself once again in his official gear with the thick, furred cloak that stretched to the ground. Craig stood as well, grabbing his owl wand and doing the same. “‘You feeling better, doll?”

Craig nodded, stretching his arms above his head in the clothing now adorning his limbs. “Ah, I think so. I’m glad I was able to talk about it with the Prime Magician,” Craig stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Tyler’s waist as the taller man enveloped him in the thick cloak. “I guess I was just so...jealous, seeing Jonathan so happy with Rocket.”

“I’m not sure it was jealousy,” He responded. “Just a bit of melancholy. And that isn’t bad- we all have it, some time or another,” Craig hummed, stepping back and grabbing Tyler’s hand as the taller man slid his wand into his belt. “Come on, boys,” He called to the hybrids, and they were more than eager to follow. Tyler supposed his affiliates served both of them, now; he was more than willing to share.

~#~

“There you are, Brock,” Brian came around the corner, his voice hushed with the lateness of the hour. The man only looked up, then resumed glaring at his own feet with his back against the brick wall. “I’ve been looking for you all evening. Why weren’t you at dinner?”

Brock sighed as Brian stepped into his space, the man holding onto his biceps with gentle hands. It helped cease his shaking, if only slightly. “I don’t know,” He admitted. “I guess I’m just...anxious.”

“Anxious? How so?” Brock bit his lip, and Brian lifted the man’s chin so their eyes could meet. The elder tried to shy away from his gaze, and Brian only held onto his chin tighter. “Brock, tell me. Sir was not very happy you didn’t attend the meal. He held it in your honor- your birthday is in a few days, and you know he’s leaving for the Amazon and won’t be able to attend. You should have said your goodbyes.”

“But that’s just it,” Brock practically whimpered, his voice becoming quivered. “I don’t want to face him.”

“Why?” Brian responded, his eyebrows furrowing.

“He- He just…”

“Did he do something to you, Brock? Brock- look at me, what did he do to you?” Their faces were only inches away, now. The elder could feel the other’s breath, coming to him as some sort of comfort. He shook his head in reply.

“He didn’t do anything, he just-” Brock hiccuped, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. He looked down both sides of the hallway, wary of anyone who just so happened to overhear their conversation. “I...I’m _scared_ , Brian.”

The man shook his head in confusion. “Why? Brock- that doesn’t have anything to do with Him-”

“I’m scared of Him, Brian, I...I’m _terrified_.” Brian paused, trying to understand the man’s words. All his life, he knew Brock to be just as much a firm believer in the Chosen One, just as his parents had been. This was all so sudden; what had changed the man’s mind? Though, he supposed that, when Brock’s parents passed, he spoke less of his devotion to their cause. Still, he was debating whether or not this was a joke; if it was, it was far from amusing.

“I don’t understand, Brock.”

“I know, I don’t really either, it’s just- lately, I’ve been really nervous every time he speaks to me, like he’ll get angry at me and start throwing stuff, again-”

“Brock, you know you’re his favorite-”

“I know, I just- oh, god, Brian, I don’t want to _be_ here,” The man’s words were quick and hushed, as if the Chosen One himself would come around the corner at any point. He was shaking under Brian’s hold, incapable of being soothed at a time like that. “You’re the only thing I have to hang on to, Brian. You’re the only reason I haven’t packed my things and ran.”

“Brock, you know you can’t speak like that. You’re questioning your own faith, and he could be listening _right_ now.” The man went still before breaking completely, throwing his body onto Brian’s and sobbing as quietly as he could into the man’s shoulder. Brian held him as tight as he could, a hand finding its way into the man’s hair. 

“Please, Brian, don’t tell him-” The man hiccuped. “P-Please, I don’t wanna die, I just wanna leave- please, come with me- don’t _tell_ him-” 

Brian pulled the man away, his hands cupping Brock’s tear-soaked cheeks. His eyes were already rimmed with a puffy red. “I won’t tell him, Brock- hey, listen-” He kept the man’s eyes focused on his own. “I’m not gonna tell him. Don’t cry, here. Now, we can’t run away- you know that. We have to stay here. Even if we tried to run, he’d find us in a heartbeat with that damn Eye of his.”

“W-What do I do, Brian?” Brock choked. The man gathered his thoughts before replying.

“You stay, and don’t you dare even hint that your devotion is hindering. I have to go with him to the Amazon for the raid, and you’re gonna be in charge while we’re gone. That should occupy your time, shouldn’t it?” Brock sniffed, wiping his eyes with a hesitant nod. “Good. If you want, you can stay in my room while I’m gone; I went out and got some more of those candies you like in China.”

They stood in silence for a few moments before Brock hiccuped again, wrapping his arms around Brian’s neck, this time for more of a warm embrace rather than one initiated out of greed. They remained like that for a minute or so until Brian spoke once more:

“Just pray he hadn’t heard your thoughts, Brock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are nice. i try and respond to them as soon as possible. either i read your comment and forgot to respond or i just dont have any time to be fuckin around on ao3. still, i appreciate each and every one; i probably wouldnt have the inspiration to continue this story without them. also, be expecting some missing updates every once in a while. ive only got one other chapter completed and i gotta catch up. thank ya


	11. Out of the Darkness

“Captis vinculum!” The magic expelled from Tyler’s wand, sending their three opponents to their knees with hands roped behind their backs with an invisible force. They struggled against it for a few moments before Craig quickly took their wands, snapping them without hesitation. Tyler let himself briefly relax, gathering his thoughts. Even if that hadn’t taken long, it was always a daze after using so much energy. 

He scratched his head with his wand as he leaned on one foot, reaching his hand down to pet Archie as he appeared by Tyler’s side. “If you hold any last confessions,” Craig began, twirling his own wand in his hands. He always did this; he was much less merciless than Tyler. Perhaps that made them such brilliant partners- they evened each other out, both in strength and in mentality. “Speak them to your God, or forever hold your tongue.”

One spat at the ground as an attempt to spit at Tyler’s shoe, landing on the pavement. He glared up at the man. “The Chosen One will have your heads.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, sighing. He unsheathed the long blades beneath his cape, preparing to end their roundabout as swiftly as possible, before he was interrupted by the same knight. “Your end is drawing nearer as we speak, Devil,” He paused, glaring down at the man. Craig subtly made his way to the other’s side. “Night will befall on the Temple of Umbris.”

“What are you rambling about?” Tyler sneered, gripping the swords tighter. The blades touched the edges of the outer men’s necks, one arm crossed over the other.

The man only smiled, his eyes lit with a deranged gaze in his eye. Tyler remained still. “Not even your god can overpower the Chosen One; he holds the universe in his fingertips.” 

“Finish them,” Craig demanded, placing a hand on Tyler’s arm. 

“You _dare_ speak of your God in such a manner?” Tyler retorted, the blades digging into their skin. 

“He knows where your imposter lay. He watches his every move,” The man’s grin seemed to stretch maliciously to his cheeks. “You will burn in the underworld with he and the rest of your scum, _pig_.” 

Tyler wasted not a second more in swinging the blades, the metal brushing over each other as they slashed through the man’s neck. Their heads bobbled briefly before falling to the ground. Tyler could only remain frozen, his chest tightening in a silent rage. 

“Babe,” Craig took his wand, whisking the corpses into oblivion before stepping to meet his lover’s eyes, cleaning Tyler’s swords. He proceeded to take them from his grasp and slide them back into their sheaths. “Babe, calm down. I don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

Tyler only remained still until letting out a quivered breath, his eyebrows creasing as his body went slack. Craig slid a hand beneath the other’s cape, a warm palm against the man’s side. “We have to get to the Prime Magician. Even if they were lying, it would be best to inform him-”

“He wasn’t lying,” Tyler interjected. Craig was taken aback. “He wasn’t lying, Craig. I felt my affiliates shake at his words, and you know they see through fables,” Tyler slid the wand out of his belt and took his lover’s wrist with a tight hold as he began to drag them back in the direction they’d came from. “Craig, we’ve got a code red.”

~#~

“This is a citrine gemstone,” Evan twirled the rock in his hand before holding it across the table for Jonathan to wield. “They are often used in rituals to cure depressions, or just to lighten moods, if you use a very minimal amount to refrain from overloading your body.”

“Do you use these, Master Fong?” Jonathan placed the gemstone on the table, sliding it over to the rest of his pile. He took careful note of each rock, the tea seeming to help with his memory. 

“No, I don’t,” Evan took a sip of his tea. “Gemstones in rituals only last so long, and discharge a negative outcome once they wear off. So, if I were to use these to gain some sort of ecstatic feeling, I’d probably feel some sort melancholia, afterwards.”

They sat at a low table, tea steaming in a pot off to the side with lush pillows serving as seats. The room was dark, lit only by candlelight. Books were scattered around them, volume after volume of ritual spells and techniques. In tiny, silk bags, Evan stored various types of gemstones, each tabled in scribbled writing and filled as much as the bags would allow. 

“These,” Evan took one of the bags, pulling it open and letting one fall into his hand. The moment he saw the glistening gem, Jonathan knew exactly what lay in the veteran’s palm. “Are diamonds.”

Jonathan leaned forward, and Evan presented the jewel to him. They both gazed down at it, the student seemingly more fazed. “These are often used in in potions of eternal value; some would use them for strength, invulnerable skin like that of Achilles, or- ah- love.”

“Like Achilles.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, don’t lie to yourself, he and Patroclus were totally gay. You should know this.” Evan laughed, airy and light, so much it almost sounded like a giggle. Jonathan found himself smiling, though he wasn’t quite sure what for. 

They went through gem after gem, each with enthusiastic intent. When Evan set down the final jewel- a jade- they relaxed some, their eyes traveling the mess of books and materials they’d strung about the table. They were silent for a few more moments before Jonathan remembered back to their talk of Achilles and Patroclus, and decided to bring up a question.

“Have you ever been in love, Master Fong?” The man looked up with subtle surprise, his cheeks turning as rosy as his dark skin would allow. Jonathan nearly grinned like a kid. He’d found his teacher’s weak spot. 

“W-Well,” Evan stuttered, and Jonathan was forced to hold a hand over his mouth as to keep him from chuckling. “I’ve had my fair share of fancies, but- but, I don’t think it’s ever been so far as to laible it in such a manner.”

“Men or women?” Jonathan’s hand balled into a fist, resting on his lips as he succumbed to the smile that formed there.

“I-I don’t understand-”

“Men,” Jonathan held out his left palm, then his right. “Or women.”

Evan sighed, shifting on his pillow as Jonathan snickered. His teacher then smiled, l darting his eyes away. “Men.”

He paused, his chest seeming to inwardly flutter as his mouth hung in a smile. He blinked a few times, collecting his thoughts once more. “If it makes you feel any better,” Jonathan began. “I actually prefer to hop through both parties.”

Evan closed his book, setting it, along with the bags of gems, to the side. He rested his arms on the table, one hand tucked under his chin. Jonathan smiled, though more in a fond manner rather than a humorous one.

“This is a rather inappropriate topic for a teacher and a student to discuss,” Evan spoke through a grin. Jon laughed.

“Well then, _Evan_ ,” He replied. “Tell me a bit more about your type.” 

His teacher scoffed through a grin, shaking his head in some form of disbelief before sighing to himself. Jonathan reached into his bag and pulled out a ripe, green apple he’d stolen from lunch along with a small blade, cutting into its edges. He sat forward in anticipation.

“I don’t like blondes.”

“That’s a start,” They both smiled, Jonathan popping a slice into his mouth. “Muscle mass?”

“I couldn’t care less, as long as they aren’t pricks,” Jonathan nodded, humming. He held out another slice of his apple for Evan, who shook his head at the offer. “The concept of height is...debatable.”

“How so?”

“I tend to like men shorter than me, though there have been a few- ah, exceptions,” Jonathan nodded again. He could see why Evan would go for the shorter guys; his teacher must have been six feet, if not a bit taller, and he knew the lot of the men in the world were beneath that line. “I also have a thing for body art- tattoos, piercings, all of that-”

“That reminds me,” Jonathan interrupted, reaching up towards his ear and taking one of the small bulbs in the upper portion, twisting it. It felt a bit stiff; he wouldn’t be surprised. He hadn’t messed around much with his piercings since he arrived at the temple. “Carry on.”

“W-Well...what about you?” Jonathan paused, his eyebrows raising in question. He hummed in thought, still twisting each piercing after another as he gathered his words.

“I think I like dark dudes,” He began, and Evan reached over to steal an apple slice. He popped it into his mouth, his eyes focused intently on the speaker. “Dark hair, occasional dark skin, dark attitudes, all that jazz. Tattoos are cool, too. Piercings- a yes, as long as they haven’t gone overboard. I’m fine with ears and noses and shit, but...yeah.”

Evan nodded. “I guess I don’t really have a set height, maybe since I haven’t thought about it, much. But, like, super-duper-tall guys scare me. Like Tyler. He’s scary as hell.”

Evan laughed, nodding in agreement. “Tyler has a way with people, I can assure you.”

~#~

“Prime Magician, sir!” Tyler bursted through the doors with the flick of his wand, Mark chasing after him in attempt to halt his steps with no avail. “I must have a word with you!”

Ryan sighed, letting the book drop to the desk as he slid the glasses from his face. He reached out and lifted Ohm by the scruff, whom of which, had been rattled by Tyler’s sudden entrance. He stood to his feet, sliding the top hat back onto his head before stepping around his desk and moving towards the plush seats down the steps.

“I’m exceedingly sorry, sir. Master Abbott has forcefully insisted he speak to you-”

“No need to apologize, Master Johnson,” Ryan looked up at the younger before him, a glare visible in his eyes. “I’m sure Master Abbott has something more important than official business.”

Mark sighed, beckoning along his affiliate as they left the room in a dash. Ryan set Ohm on the table, petting his fur softly before looking back up at the other man. “Explain yourself.”

“We’ve been exposed.” Ryan remained still, his eyes becoming somewhat more harsh as he tried to comprehend the man’s words. He blinked. 

“Excuse me?”

“The Horseman. He’s found the Chosen One. He’s found our temple, and if we aren’t careful, he’ll find the remaining sacred items.” Ryan could only stand there dumbfounded before he leaned a hand on the table, taking the hat from his head and letting it fall into his seat. 

“Umbris in Heaven,” Ryan rubbed a hand over his beard, now thoroughly unkempt with the stress that had recently been taking him. “The timing- this can’t be a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” Tyler tilted his head in attempt to reconnect their eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in anger. “Prime Magician, sir, if you’re hiding something-”

“He’s just attacked the Amazon Temple in South America,” Tyler paused, his words falling short. “I received the distress call just now.”

The man stalked up to Ryan’s desk, his cape bellowing as his eyes searched the untidy surface. He took the open letter with a shaking hand, his eyes scanning it frantically. “They’ve called for evacuation. The survivors are currently making their way to the temple in Nunavut.”

Tyler let the letter fall to the desk, turning to face Ryan with a bold, yet somewhat determined look in his eye. “War is soon upon us, sir,” Ryan swallowed in his throat. “If you’re hiding anything else from me, speak.”

“You are in no position to deliver such orders, Master Abbott-”

“This isn’t about rank, _Theodoric_ ,” Tyler spat his surname, and Ryan glared. “This is a matter of life or death. So if you’re hiding any more information,” Tyler stepped forward, his hands clenched. Ryan stood his ground. “You’re putting every magician’s life in this temple at great risk.”

“Any secrets I keep, I keep for good reason,” He responded, stepping forward. He may have been more than a few inches shorter than the man, but it had no less effect on Tyler; the man took a step back, his eyes darting to the ground. “The secrets I bear are for my ears only. I will take them to my grave if need be- and you, Master Abbott-” Ryan gritted his teeth. “Have no reason to dig your nose into another man’s business. 

“I will declare war when the time is right. Right now, we must send supplies to our remaining brothers in South America. Now, get going- Ohm is getting worked up, again.” 

Tyler wasted no time in stalking from the room, using his wand to throw open the doors and slam them harshly behind him once more. Ryan didn’t stur at the loud bang. He had a feeling Ohm didn’t, either.

He suddenly wondered just how long he could keep those secrets of his. He sure did have a lot- though, they had a habit to build up over time.

~#~

“Day four in knife-throwing,” Marcel ran the smoothed stone over the blade, blowing on the weapon before handing it to Jonathan. He accepted it without hesitation. “Yet to hit the bull’s-eye.”

“I don’t see why I need to hit the bull’s-eye to pass. I doubt I’m gonna be doing very much knife-throwing in battle,” Marcel sighed, snatching the knife from Jonathan’s hand and chucking it, with little to no hesitation, towards the target at the end of the room. As expected, it hit the dead center, though it had little effect on him; he’d been stunned the first time.

“Trust me,” Marcel replied, drawing his wand and summoning the knife’s handle back into his hand. “It’ll be of great use once you know how to do it.”

Jonathan took the knife again, sighing. He positioned his body as Marcel had taught him, cracking his neck and hands in preparation (he could just visualize Evan grimacing at the sound from the doorway). 

The room fell silent, Vanoss grumbling lowly before Evan hushed him, probably reaching up to pet him like he always did. Marcel cleared his throat, and the room went still once more. He tightened his grip on the knife before loosening it again, his eyes focused on the center of the target before him. His hand reached back, arm tightened-

“Bull’s-eye!” Jonathan rejoiced, Marcel giving one of his brighter sighs as he felt Evan step forward. He smiled sheepishly to himself as the veteran clapped his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. Marcel took his wand once more and summoned the knife, tossing it a few times in the air. 

“Good job,” Evan praised, bearing a content smile of his own. “You’re becoming the magician we’ve always envisioned.”

He could only continue to grin. Something about that statement made him feel- for the first time- wanted. 

~#~

Luke drew in a breath, his body unresponsive to the chilling autumn winds landing on his bare chest. He began his daily tai chi exercises, placing one foot down and letting his movements follow their own course. 

He felt Mark’s presence at the door when he arrived, but paid no mind to it as he continued his exercise. “Lucas, we must speak.”

“Is it urgent?” 

“It is of great respect, mind you,” Luke sighed as Mark stepped onto the grass, though coming no closer than the edge of the steps. “It relates to the Magician.”

“What about him.”

“You know ‘what’, Luke,” The doctor winced. “You’ve seen his reading. I believe he told you himself.” 

“He has in fact, yes.” 

“Then you would only recall the oath we swore upon.”

“Which one?”

“The _only_ one, Luke,” He opened his eyes, pausing before he closed them once more. He felt his chest grow heavy in memory. That had been so long ago…”If, come his death, at any time-”

“We keep our promise and follow him. Yes, I remember,” He stopped, turning to face Mark. “Though, I wonder if David can still recall?”

“I am not sure he would be one to keep his word. He has already broken many oaths he swore to- even more, he now has a child.”

“The child does not bear his blood.”

“He bears the father of the child. That should be enough to consider the boy his.” He went back to his tai chi, letting his eyes fall closed. “I am sure of my own devotion to our Prime Magician. However, I am not sure what to believe of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luke grumbled, his movements becoming more stiff as he went. He attempted to calm his nerves in fear of using his ability unconsciously; he’d never taken lightly to insults.

“I am sure you treasure our Prime Magician- perhaps, more than usual- in which, that I am quite sure of. However, I also know of your devotion to the prophecy, and to the Chosen One’s destiny,” Mark stepped forward, his body standing vertical to Luke’s as their eyes met. “And I know you would do anything to make sure he lives- even if that means to neglect the oath and follow Jonathan’s path, instead.”

“I am a loyal servant to the Prime Magician and to Umbris,” He responded, standing tall. He suddenly felt a bit chilly. “My time will come just as well as his, David’s, and yours. Doubt me again, Master Johnson,” He stepped forward, inches apart. “And I will make sure you never do so again.”

He took his leave, a sense of worrisome guilt lingering on his shoulder- though, for whom, he couldn’t be sure. He’d been around far too long to make sense of anything proper. Perhaps it really _was_ time.

~#~

“I have soldiers searching the entire temple, Your Excellency. I am sure it will be found in a swift while, if the crystal resides here.” Beneath him, his steed shifted, grumbling to itself as it shook its head to rid of the flies. He pulled out his wand, muttering a spell to rid of them. He didn’t even notice as the green beneath his horse’s feet began to slowly turn grey.

“See to it that they search faster. I’m tired of waiting.” Brian swallowed in his throat. His master had never been too kind when he grew distressed.

“Of course, Your Excellency,” He took the reins of the bird beneath him, looking up to the buildings in the trees. It had been exceedingly difficult to get his Argentavis to the forest floor. He wasn’t sure how his boss expected him to navigate through them; he didn’t even want to think of how he’d get out without hurting the beast.

He carefully maneuvered the bird, hands tight on the reigns as the beast made its way down the overhang. Once he had approached the entrance to the temple, he took a close look at the prisoners they kept on their knees, mouths bound with thick cloth. Any who hadn’t managed to escape had already been slaughtered (something he’d requested of the Chosen One not to take apart of). Before them lay the temple’s masters and their Prime Magician.

He settled the beast next to the woman on guard, holding tight to his reigns. “His Majesty orders more men to search for the crystal posthaste. He is growing quite restless; you are aware of what happened last time, I presume.”

“Sir, I must still stand my post-”

“I can manage it for you, miss. Now, run along.”

The woman hesitated before nodding, taking the reins of her horse and speeding into the temple without a word. He remained still, looking down at the men taken prisoner by the Chosen One. He studied them well before his eyes landed on their Prime Magician, no longer decorated in the heavily gem-studded robes they had found him in. He felt a sick feeling in his stomach as he spoke. 

“It would be wise to inform us where you are keeping the crystal, if you wish to die a swift death,” He kept his composure as the man seemed to petrify his soul with a single glance. His eyes were a greyish blue with strange streaks of gold, so light compared to his dark skin embedded with the symbols of his temple and power. Even when faced with death, he still managed to hold himself higher than Brian ever could for himself. With this realization, he could only grip the reins harder.

“A man who speaks the words of another cannot be considered a man, but a puppet.” The Prime Magician responded, and Brian narrowed his eyes. He was aware he should take action- hit the man with a blunt object of some sort and request immediate annihilation of the prisoners- but he found his body couldn’t respond to his mind. “Every word you utter, every action you take, is dictated by the Horseman. But unlike the rest…” Brian put his hand on the hilt of his sword, his grip tightened so much his knuckles turned white. “You are one who has the sense to speak against him. Even still, your tongue remains tied.”

“I could have you slaughtered just like the rest of your people,” He spat, the blade of his sword peeking through the sheathe.

The man raised his chin, his arms flexing through the binding behind his back. “You would not have the gull.”

He had been about to draw his sword before the woman emerged from the tunnel, barely able to control her breath. “Admiral Hanby! We’ve found the crystal!”

His attention snapped to the two men behind her, carrying out a large, wooden box, thick and sturdy, although aged. He released his sword and demounted from the beast below him, stalking up to the crate as they presented it. He felt the heavy thuds of hooves behind him, and quickly darted out of the way as for the Chosen One to be the first to see the item.

The man took his time after demounting to approach the chest, wiping away the remaining dust with a gloved hand. Brian swallowed in his throat. He knew what was in that crate- how powerful it was. What scared him most was how the Chosen One would soon put it to use.

The man lifted the top of the crate, a black crystal laying before him in all of its glory. Somehow, as dark as it was, it seemed to shine, emitting a white light. Upon his master’s already pale skin, it made him look as old as he truly was, and less like the youthful facade he already bore. The sick feeling began to climb up his throat, and it took all of Brian’s willpower not to vomit in his overwhelmed state.

The man slammed the chest closed, a dangerous grin aligning his features. “Get the crystal to the castle as soon as possible. We start the process immediately upon our return. And Admiral Hanby,” Brian turned to the man, his back like a rod as he put on as straight of a face as he could manage. “See to it that the rest of these prisoners are beheaded.”

The man climbed back on his horse, calling along a group of soldiers carrying the chest as he made his way back to the steep rocks of the overhang. Brian swallowed in his throat, turning to one of his generals. “Bring their Prime Magician forth.”

Two soldiers stepped up to comply, taking the man by the arms and moving him forward. Letting him land harshly on his knees, Brian unsheathed his sword, letting out a shallow breath as he approached. He faced the man, quickly darting his eyes to the masters that sat behind him, each looking as defeated as the next. Yet, still, their leader kept a firm posture, willing to keep his eyes on Brian’s.

“Your final words will be spoken not only for yourself, but for those of your temple, fallen and awake. Speak.”

The man considered his words, his eyes lowering. Brian was overtaken by melancholy as the man slowly began to lose authority at the hand of a sword. How so he wanted to run, to spare their lives. And yet, he was locked in place with orders of the Chosen One. Either commit homicide, or have the Chosen One commit it both towards the people of the temple, and towards Brian himself.

“I have lived far too long,” He began, “To lose a war that has raged centuries. The Chosen One has arisen from the ashes, and will deliver a fury unbeknownst to your fraud of a leader.”

Their eyes met. He inhaled deeply.

“The Chosen One will prevail.”

He swung his blade. His breath vanished at the sight of the job he’d done. Brock would be ashamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if y'all haven't noticed, each chapter is titled after a (really good) song that y'all should totally listen to. i try to include a variety while still having them correlate with the chapter. and thank ya for the comments, i am truly blessed !!!!!!


	12. Trojans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some spicy stuff, proceed with caution

Evan felt like he was floating on clouds, yet could barely feel anything at all. The only thing he knew, was that Jonathan was atop of him, shedding his robes one by one, exposing each tattoo one after the other. He reached his hand up to feel the man’s bare chest, smiling to himself at the soft feeling. It was just like he’d imagined it to be.

Jonathan’s lips found their way to his neck, gentle like tender hands on rose petals, playing there before they began to trail to his collarbone, then to his torso, and taking their time roaming, claiming. He let out an airy breath, closing his eyes as he seemed to melt into the mattress.

His fingers tangled in the man’s dark hair, tugging softly. Jonathan groaned, and he smirked to himself as he let his head dig into the pillows. The man was so close, now, trailing painfully downward. Evan contained himself, shifting slightly. As much as he found himself indulged, he still felt a peculiar discomfort.

Jonathan paused, looking up at Evan through hooded eyes. Evan’s fingers lost their intensity, now resting at the edge of the man’s face. “You’re nervous,” Jonathan observed. Evan could see the man’s fingers tracing his skin, yet he couldn’t feel it. His chest grew tight at the realization.

The next moment, he opened his eyes to light streaming through the window, no sign of another warm body next to his. Vanoss was already awake, sitting in the windowsill, awaiting his master. Everything was normal- and yet, his mind began to spin with guilt. 

He felt completely, utterly ashamed of the feeling between his legs, clouding his mind with thoughts of his dream. It may have been the first, but he was sure it wouldn’t be the last; nightmares always resurfaced. And that’s what it was- a nightmare. He couldn’t define it any other way. It was terrifying, plaguing his mind in all the wrong ways.

Even still, nightmares were just dreams. Dreams about the ones he loved, he knew for a fact, felt all too real- and that had been the most genuine dream his mind had ever conjured up for his own viewing. It had been worse than any truths, than any opponents, than any milestones throughout his twenty-nine years.

But perhaps, the scariest aspect, was that he’d enjoyed it.

~#~

“Your skin,” Luke groaned softly at the fingers running down his chest like gentle steps, smiling to himself. “I can’t help but notice how rough it has become.”

“It’s the age. It’s starting to get to me.” Luke admitted, opening his eyes to gaze up at Ryan sitting above him. The sun was early in the sky, and he had tried to urge the man to finally leave bed and assume his duties as Prime Magician, but he’d insisted he stay just a second longer. That second had ran into well over fifteen minutes, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. “What about you?” 

Ryan hummed to himself, placing Luke’s night robes back in place as he sat straight to open his own. The doctor reached his hand up to place a gentle touch on the man’s bare skin, his mouth slightly agape. It felt something much like paper, though warm, and seemingly more...human. Of course, he knew Ryan had been around just as long as he had himself, but there was something draining him quicker than it did Luke. It must have been his position. So much authority required so much spending of magic- and magic itself had a cost, not only in energy, but with enough expelling of it, it also took off a few years. Luckily for himself, he was only a doctor- magic was only ever used in a few rituals and healing spells.

“Is it truely that horrific? You haven’t spoken,” Luke licked his lips.

“You’re nearly two and a half centuries old. I’d say you’re lucky you still look thirty- but keep using as much magic as you have, and your skin- well…”

“I’ll start to rot.” Ryan finished, closing his robes and falling on the bed next to the other. They lay in silence, contemplating their next words, before the Prime Magician spoke again. “Does it even matter at this point, Luke?”

“Hmm? Why would you say that?” He turned his head, but Ryan only bit his lip with his eyes aimed at the wall ahead. 

“Once the Horseman is dead, and the Chosen One’s fate is secure, I will have no other purpose,” Ryan turned to face him, his eyes bearing the threat of tears. “Do you think, after it’s all said and done...it would be time to rest?”

Luke remained still, so much he feared his own heart had stopped beating in his chest. After moments unspoken, he felt Ryan’s head on his shoulder, gently nestling into the crook that lay there. Luke let his eyes fall closed, resting his own head atop of the other’s. “I am sworn to your oath, sir, no matter what relations we hold between us.”

Ryan’s arm crossed over Luke’s chest, along with a leg. Luke held him close. “Even without an oath, I could only hope you’d follow me to the afterlife.”

Once again, they fell into a slumber.

~#~

A week passed. The Prime Magician dealt with the situation in the Amazon, telling Jonathan that they had extracted anything from the temple that the Horseman had left there after his raid. He left everything else confidential. Still, Jonathan continued his studies, noticing how Craig’s mood seemed to grow more chipper as the days went by. With Tyler, he finally understood how to enlarge and shrink his affiliate without hurting her, and he’d began the art of sword fighting with Marcel (he was rather good at it, the man claimed.)

The only place in which anything felt odd were his lessons with Evan. The man seemed quieter, more dazed, even though Jonathan had known him to always keep his head focused on the task at hand. He would sometimes talk with Vanoss, as if they could understand each other (Jonathan was sure they could), and would stay in conversation anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes. He decided it would be best not to question it, but he couldn’t help but wonder. 

They were currently working on battle tactics, tossing spells this way and that. Evan had enchanted his wand into some sort of “practice mode,” which would allow him to cast spells that had no effect on Jonathan, but would still emit as for the student to deflect them. Everything had been working well, until he noticed that Evan was becoming continuously sluggish. Upon further investigation, he noticed the bags under the man’s eyes, and how his words were becoming slurred. He finally gathered the courage to speak.

“Pause,” Evan immediately lowered his wand, his drooping eyes suddenly more awake. Jonathan considered his next words, licking his lips. “Are you alright, Master Fong?”

The man blinked, his body becoming somewhat slouched as he sighed to himself. “Yes, I am. You know not to pause our sessions unless you have good reason. You’ve been here for four months, now- you should know.”

“I’m aware, Master Fong. I’m only concerned for my education and your health.” Evan remained still, and Jonathan swallowed in his throat. Over the months he’d been at the temple, he’d grown accustomed to speaking in a proper manner during training. He guessed it was just a perk of being surrounded by super-literate, super-talented people.

The Prime Magician told him he was becoming more talented, too. He claimed that the spells and rituals he’d learned in the course of four months would have taken nearly a year for any other new magicians. He’d already memorized the first two beginner books like they were the national anthem and, with enough meditation, he could cast them just as flawlessly as he could recite. Evan had him on an advanced book for battle spells and techniques which had proved to be difficult when he’d first picked it up. Two weeks later, the spells were flying out of his mouth before he could even comprehend it.

Jonathan knew he’d never been good at many things before he became a magician. He could barely even do his job correctly; when he’d worked at the grocer’s, they would often give him simple tasks like stocking shelves, in which he always managed to mess up one way or another. But with how fluent he was in magics, it was quite literally what he was born to do- and, in the words of the Prime Magician- no one could do magic better than he could. 

He only wished for more praise from Evan- perhaps just as much as the Prime Magician, which was really only every once in a while. With his master’s word, he was sure he could make him proud, make himself proud. But when all the man did was dodge questions as he was doing now, he was starting to lose courage. And he knew it was selfish, but he’d never been too good at avoiding emotions.

“My wellbeing is none of your concern. Continue.” Jonathan had been about to protest, but he was hungry, lunchtime was right around the corner, and Evan wouldn’t hesitate to take away rations of his food. On the list of things he didn’t want to lose, that came fourth.

~#~

“Wake up, Jonathan,” He shot up in bed as Evan came stalking in, the first thing the student noticing was the scouting gear he bore. He glanced over at the clock. It was nearly midnight; why the hell was Evan planning a mission that late at night, and where to?

The man shot straight towards his wardrobe, Vanoss flying in seconds later to his usual perch atop of it. Jonathan swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes as Rocket brushed up against his side. He pet her coat as he reached under the bed, dragging his boots out from underneath.

He stood as Evan tossed his trousers, and he thanked him with a mumble as he slid them on. He couldn’t help but despise just how tight they hugged his legs like sardines. Luckily, the jacket and cape were easier on his body. 

As he slid on the final piece and finished the buttons, Evan adjusted his hat so it sat flat on his head, and Vanoss wasted no time in taking his perch. “You never answered my question from before,” Jonathan hummed in reply as he reached to tie his boots. “Why don’t you wear an undershirt for that jacket?” 

Jonathan shrugged, proving difficult for his crouched position. “Dunno. You’re always waking me up when I’m in my boxers, and you never toss me one.”

Evan paused before sighing with a nod, and Jonathan smirked to himself as he stood to his feet. The veteran stalked towards the door with his apprentice in suit before stopping, turning to the man. “Call yourself a magician,” Evan reached his hand up, running it through the mop upon Jonathan’s head to smooth it down. Jonathan blushed in turn. “‘Can’t even tame your hair.”

He smiled to himself as they left, Evan’s cape nearly hitting him with the shear stealth he used in his stride, and he could only wonder if he’d put a spell on it to make it so dramatic. Then, he glanced at his own cape, and assumed it was just some strange fabric that made the magicians out to be some sort of fairytale heroes. He couldn’t say he didn’t admire it at least slightly.

They reached the portal room, and Jonathan whipped out his wand. He’d been about to cast the spell before Evan reached his hand out, stopping him. “I changed my mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna go to Paris.” Evan replied. He pulled out a wand of his own, aiming it at the wall. “Romam portal,” He declared, his wand complying with his demand. 

“Where are you taking me?” Jonathan questioned as Evan made his way towards the portal, the man turning back to face him. 

“Rome,” He replied, “Just like you wanted.”

~#~

Ryan let out a heavy breath through his nose, letting his eyes fall closed. His hands were elevated over the glowing ball before him, now beginning to send a familiar chill throughout his limbs. Luke leaned in the corner while Mark paced nearby. They hadn’t used the crystal ball in years- they’d never really needed to- not since the eye was stolen. But now, they weren’t quite sure what to turn to. And if there was even the slightest chance of finding traces of the Horseman after the attack on the South American temple, they needed to take every chance they had.

Images flashed through Ryan’s mind, none the pictures he looked for. The ball was seeking every place the Horseman had been before, but not at the current time. It could locate a person’s location, but if the enemy went back into hiding before then, they’d be too late. Luke had said it was useless to even try and search, but Mark had thought differently- and who was he to disagree?

“What do you see?” Mark questioned anxiously, pausing a meter away from the table. “Anything?”

“The Amazon...a Denny’s in Vegas- wait, that’s not right….or maybe it is...can’t be sure…” He droned before an image sparked in his mind- only, this one moved- and he could see it clearly. _A dark figure with locks of fire, sat upon the twilight’s steed_. Lines of the prophecy began to play through his head, the voices clouding his mind. The figure, whom of which he could see clearly, now, gave off a cold aura. Ryan struggled to focus, looking around the location as swiftly as he could, gathering as much information as he could before he went haywire- and then, he felt it. 

It was warm- too warm to be any one person. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his mind spinning with possibilities, until he landed on one single explanation.

The Horseman had found the Chosen One- and now, he was seeking Jonathan out himself.

~#~

“How long until your orbs come back?” Jonathan whined, kicking a rock on the pavement. Evan scoffed at his childishness. They’d nearly seen all there was to see; in the distance lay the great Colosseum, their last stop in the city. They’d been trekking for hours, now, hopping from portal to portal throughout the town while the orbs Evan had sent out still searched for any potential enemy. 

“Sometimes, they don’t. I usually would have headed back to the temple, by now, but you still haven’t seen the Colosseum.” Jonathan pondered that for a moment before looking to the man, noticing just how worn the man was, and how his shoulders were even slouched through his fatigue. He suddenly regretted having wanted to visit Rome, as it was costing even more than Evan had already gave. He wasn’t in well enough a condition to continue to walk like this, and he was most certainly in no condition to fight any knights they may have stumbled upon.

Jonathan stopped, and it took a few steps for Evan to even register that they had come to a halt. The veteran turned to him with a curious gaze. “We don’t- _have_ to go see it, you know. You don’t have to punish yourself for my wants.”

Evan smiled to himself, looking to the ground. “Even if I didn’t have a choice, I have a feeling I would do it, anyway.”

Jonathan had been about to respond before an orb approached in the distance, moving at a frantic pace. It shot straight into Evan’s chest, exploding into tiny little fragments before dissipating. Evan seemed unfazed, though his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Do they always do that?”

“No, no, they-” Evan stopped, huffing to himself as he stood straight. “I think you’re right…”

“About what?”

“I think we should...probably be heading back, now…” Evan’s eyes trailed off into the distance, and Jonathan’s moved in suit. His chest began to tighten once more as he saw figures in the distance, this time in a more orderly line. They bore long, open coats and cloth tied around their mouths, leaving only their eyes in sight. He turned around, and they continued coming from that side, too.

“Evan- Evan, they’re back-”

“Jonathan,” Evan turned to him, grabbing his shoulders with a stern yet somewhat shaken tone. “Stay calm. You’re going to get out of this, I swear to you.”

“W-What do I do? I can’t defeat these people- oh, god, I don’t want to use the ability again, Evan-” Evan put a hand to Jonathan’s cheek, giving him an uneasy smile, one solely given to issue some sort of comfort Jonathan wasn’t sure he’d be able to establish for himself.

“Remember what I taught you, Jonathan. Hold off for as long as you can. When you see your chance, run- with or without me.” He couldn’t quite comprehend it. He thought back to what Evan had said to him the first time this happened. 

Evan was willing to give his own life for that of Jonathan’s. He wasn’t one to let that kind of favor slide.

“No,” He straightened his back, placing his hand over the one resting on his cheek. Evan narrowed his eyes. “I won’t leave you, Evan- I’m the Chosen One. This is my duty- that’s what the Prime Magician told me.”

“Your mission is to defeat the Horseman-”

“What’s the difference?” He stepped away from Evan’s touch and pulled out his wand, twisting it between his fingers as he looked to the oncoming group of henchmen. “They’re all the enemy. And if this is what I was born to do, I’ll be damned if I don’t fight.”

Evan didn’t respond, only glancing around at the men now surrounding them. Jonathan did the same, looking for an escape route. If they managed to free themselves from the fight, it would be together. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if that didn’t turn out to be the case. 

Right as Jonathan began reciting spells to himself in preparation, three glowing figures appeared next to him, and Evan placed an arm over his chest to move their bodies backwards. They began to take shape, and he recognized them as Luke, the Prime Magician’s assistant and the Prime Magician himself. Questions soared through his mind- much along the lines of how they’d known he and Evan were in danger, and how they’d teleported without a portal. 

“Prime Magician, sir,” Evan still kept his distance, not ceasing to keep an arm before Jonathan. The apprentice had no reason to move it. “I’m pleased you have arrived, though I’m curious as to how-”

“That doesn’t matter, Master Fong,” The man responded, taking the hat from his head and pulling out Ohm from its confines, then setting the rabbit on the ground. “Your objective is to get the Chosen One to safety. We’ll ward off the enemy for as long as possible.”

Jonathan looked to Luke, who then shed a single layer of robing to expose his bare chest, covered in numerous Asian-like markings. There was barely any space left untouched with tattoos. Though, what caught his eye, was the dragon in the center of his chest- and how it began to glow brighter with a fiery orange, so much he was concerned that it was actually burning. 

“Luke, you fight? I thought you just did doctor-y stuff.”” The man turned his head, clearly not amused. He then turned back to a group of henchmen, quite literally blowing streams of fire from his fists in that moment. Jonathan took another step back, though the others were left unfazed. He guessed he now knew exactly what special ability Luke had to be kept so close to the Prime Magician.

“I retired from fighting long ago. However, duty called.” Jonathan was left flabbergasted, nodding in reply. He looked to the Magician’s assistant, seeing the man take his wand, mutter a spell, and transform it into a glistening, silver blade that spanned at least a meter in length. He watched in awe as the elder twirled it in his hand effortlessly, looking even more so intimidating when the gorilla by his side practically roared.

“Keep your eye on me, Jonathan,” Evan reminded him, briefly placing a comforting hand on the man’s arm. Jonathan focused on the feeling, taking a deep breath. He was very wary of his situation; five men against an army? However, if the Prime Magician had known what kind of trouble they were in, he would have brought more men (oh, how he longed for Marcel, Craig and Tyler; he was sure they would have helped significantly.) This was also the first time he’d ever see the Prime Magician fight, in which he was both excited and terrified to experience it.

Jonathan wasn’t exactly sure how the war began. One moment, he was awaiting the first strike anxiously, and in the next, he was tossing spell after spell in a daze. Evan made sure to stay by his side- could hear his master next to him, the war cries of his owl. He could barely even register what was happening in his own mind. He saw Rocket obliterating a crowd of men, though he wasn’t sure when he’d sent out the order.

He watched as multitudes of soldiers went up in Luke’s flames, the man practically on fire himself as his skin glowed an angry red. The Prime Magician was next to him, spouting orders to Ohm, all the while flinging around the staff bearing Umbris’ star. Jonathan watched in astonishment as he must have sent some thirty men to the ground, only a few managing to stand to their feet again. 

They began backing towards a nearby street, plowing through knights as if they were tall blades of grass, Evan keeping a steady hand on Jonathan’s arm as he guided him through. He found himself surrounded by the four, Rocket by his feet. He let her climb up his body to rest in his arms. He was just now noticing how incredibly tired he was; how much had he fought, already? How many minutes had passed? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult of a time Rocket must have been having- she was only a small little thing. Wide, though small.

In a single moment, everything in his mind seemed to come to a standstill. The war around him waged on, but his eye was focused on a single point; beyond the wall his masters had built around him, beyond the crowd of men determined to watch it shatter, lay a single figure. He rode on a black steed, twice as tall as any regular horse he’d ever laid eyes upon. He looked seemingly young, though he held himself as if he were a god. His hair burned a fiery red, his eyes dark as night though the life inside burned like embers. When his mind finally came to a conclusion, it was too late to speak, as he then somehow found himself being pulled towards a portal, chucked in, and tossed heavily on a familiar stone floor.

He nearly passed out there on that floor. The only thing keeping him conscious was Rocket, placing her hands on his head and sniffing him with her wet nose all-too-close to his skin. Around him, the others struggled to catch their breaths; Evan was leaned against the wall, holding a hand to his lower chest. His eyes widened when he saw stains of crimson.

“M...M-Master F...Fong…” He choked out, attempting to sit up before his body fell back onto the stone, at that point being unable to move. Evan looked down at him with such sorrow in his eyes, choking back any emotion by biting his lip. Moments later, footsteps prowled about his ears, and he turned his head to see Tyler before he was being lifted, Rocket sprawled upon his chest. 

He turned his head one last time, seeing Evan sliding to the ground before his eyes fell closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think im gonna have to start updating once every couple of weeks instead of one EVERY week. my school schedule changed, and i no longer have a free period, which means less time to write. still, i'll try and keep up.


	13. Happy Hour

The second Ryan reached his study, his hand was scouring the inside of his hat, digging around frantically until he found the tube of the familiar gold sap, whisking his hand through the air to call for his tea. Luke practically collapsed in seat across from the Magician’s, his body close to shaking as his tea was poured. Mark was somewhat more subtle about his condition, pausing by the edge of the table. 

A drop of the substance was added to the three cups, and they each took their own and tossed their heads back, the burning sensation not to be rivaled by the sheer relief and the ability to breathe. Ryan coughed as Luke fell back into his seat, and the Prime Magician stumbled up the steps to his desk, collapsing in the large chair. Mark made himself at home by taking Ryan’s usual chair. No matter how much of their energy they used, it always came back to bite them after the war was waged.

The room was silent for what seemed like hours, seconds ticking by into eternity. Any injuries they bore after the battle went unnoticed as each of their minds spinned- question after question, most without any remark to answer. Soon, their wonders began to evolve, questions becoming memories, some fond, some distant.

Ryan got the worst of it.

~#~

The first thing that came to mind upon Jonathan’s resurfacing, was the whereabouts of Evan. Quite odd, he knew, but he’d rather not question it. He only staggered to his feet, Rocket just as fatigued as he himself, stretching slowly. He ordered to stay behind, let her rest for just a while longer. 

He found himself at his wardrobe, grabbing the first robe he saw. Someone had been kind enough to strip away the robes from the battle and leave them on his nightstand, just recently washed. He’d have to find out who had done the deed and thank them later- but right now, Evan was in pain, and the image of his master clutching a hand to a sliced stomach only made his feet move faster. 

He stumbled down the hall, his mind still spinning. However, its focus was solely set on the infirmary, until he found himself before Evan’s private chamber, and he paused before the man’s door. He slid it open slowly, the sight of an unconscious figure in the bed hurrying him along in slipping in quietly.

He approached the bedside, gazing down with a worrisome gaze. Evan had been stripped to pants of a soft fabric serving as pajamas and a plentiful amount of bandaging around his waist, laying flat on his back. Jonathan sat upon the mattress, a hesitant hand reaching to the man’s forehead before he stirred in his sleep, and he opted to let his hand fall loose by his side.

He waited patiently for the man to wake in his own time, tapping his finger against the mattress. Evan slowly came to his senses, seemingly more out of fatigue than loss of blood with how his skin seemed its natural color. Jon slid closer as Evan opened his eyes, looking up at his apprentice.

He was silent for a few moments before he finally spoke. “Y-...You’re okay,” Jonathan smiled, nodding. Evan grinned alongside him, moving to sit up, before he groaned in pain and clutched the bandages around his stomach. Jon sighed, feeling the urge to place his hand on his teacher’s chest to keep him pinned to the bed. He needed to heal properly- most definitely without the costly help of magic.

“I just came to see if you were alright,” He admitted, so quiet he feared Evan wouldn’t even hear. “When we went through that portal, I- I saw you bleeding, but I could barely move.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” He replied, looking down at his injury. “You expelled so much magic at such rapid rates, I’m surprised you aren’t still in bed.” The man’s voice was somewhat broken with how weak he sounded; Jonathan felt a sick feeling in his stomach just at the thought of how he came to bear it. If it hadn’t been for the Horseman, Evan would still be standing.

That, he decided, was his next destination- to the Prime Magician’s, if only for the knowledge to keep the ones close to him safe. Or, in other words, to find a way to succeed in what he failed to do.

~#~

Jonathan, in his weak state, had to use his entire body to push the door open, groaning as he did so. The Prime Magician sat at his desk, Ohm in his arms. He pet his affiliate, fingers moving slowly with his eyes fallen closed. He suddenly wondered if the man was asleep. Still, he approached the Magician’s desk with tender steps.

“What is it you need, Jonathan,” Even if he had expected it, the man’s words still startled him a bit, and he paused before the man’s desk. He switched from one foot to the other, considering his next move. “Speak.”

“I-I...I wish for more information on the Horseman, sir,” He admitted, swallowing in his throat. “I believe more background knowledge would help me in defeating him. And, as you are the Prime Magician, I just assumed you had the most experience with him- sir.”

Ryan opened his eyes, looking up at Jonathan with a blank face. Jonathan shifted back to his other foot in discomfort. He hadn’t ever seen the man in such a solemn state; it was more chilling than anything. “I don’t know what you expect for me to tell you.”

“Anything you know, sir. I mean, how did he know where I was gonna be? How did you know that he was there at all? Maybe some basic facts about him. Ever since I’ve gotten here, everyone’s been pretty reluctant to tell me anything about him- about anything, really…” Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not really comforting to...to kill a man I don’t know.”

Ryan paused in his motions, letting his eyes fall to the rabbit in his arms before resuming once more. “I don’t think it’s the wisest decision.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed.

“Pardon, sir?”

Ryan looked up at him, his eyes resembling that of a glare. Jonathan wasn’t sure what he’d done. “He may be classified as human, but he doesn’t treat himself as such- he thinks himself a god. He should _not_ be treated as such, but he shouldn’t be treated as a magician, either. He is a target. As long as you keep that mindset about him, you’ll be fine. Other information about the Horseman is not required.”

Jonathan hated to be disrespectful, but he couldn’t help but give the man a glare of his own. He didn’t understand; shouldn’t knowing more about his enemy make it easier to defeat him? Didn’t his weak spots and charge towards that? Just what did this man have to hide that was so important?

“I don’t understand, sir,” He replied, attempting to make his body language somewhat warmer. “I have to kill him, anyway, and it would be for the better-”

The man stood to his feet in an instant, placing Ohm on the table. The rabbit lay still. “You do not have the right tell me what is for the better, Voorhees! I have been waiting far too long for a mere apprentice to take control of a situation that is ultimately out of his hands!” The man’s voice was sharp and demanding, a clear frustrated anger within his voice. Jonathan’s heart dropped, his mouth agape as he took a step back. The Prime Magician had never spoken in such a dominating tone.

“Sir, I-”

“Do not ‘sir’ me, Jonathan,” The man snapped, stepping around his desk. He kept his stance; Evan had told him to keep a bold tone in the face of the enemy. Of course, the Prime Magician was far from the enemy, but at the moment, he certainly wasn’t acting like it. “Ever since I took office, I have kept my oath to Umbris in training the Chosen One to defeat the Horseman and fulfill the prophecy. I’ve waited _far too long_ to let this chance slip from my hands!”

Jonathan was silent, as the Prime Magician wished him to be. The man them came to his senses, realizing what he’d done as Jonathan felt his eyes grow damp. The room was eerily still, and time itself seemed to stop in that moment. Ryan backed away, noticing just how close he had advanced towards his student, and let out a huff of breath as he leaned on his desk.

As Jonathan felt the first tears fall (god, how many times had he cried since he arrived?), the Prime Magician ran a hand through his hair. “Jonathan, I...I must apologize-”

He quickly turned his heel, speeding towards the door with his wrists at his eye sockets, frantically brushing away any indication of weakness. He heard the Magician stutter something, most likely an apology, but Jonathan was already too far gone; he was out the door in a flash, speeding down the halls as quick as he dared. He was just thankful the halls were empty.

When he reached Evan’s room, the man was awake, holding a wand to the now unwrapped bandages around his stomach. He looked relatively peaceful, the orb at the end of his wand the only source of light besides that of the moon streaming through the window. For this, he was glad; perhaps the man wouldn’t notice.

“If you let it heal like this, it’ll bite you in the ass, later.” He warned, his voice somewhat broken. He reached his hands up again and wiped more tears threatening to spill, although attempting to remain subtle about it. Evan’s actions ceased to halt, he only emitting a grunt of acknowledgement from his throat. 

“I’m aware,” He droned. He was still exhausted, and it didn’t make it much better that he was using even more of his magic. “It’s just a bit of numbing, a bit of stitching….I’ll let Luke fix it later…” Evan let his eyes fall closed, and Jonathan stepped closer to the bed. “You don’t seem to be in the best of moods.”

Jonathan sat at the edge of the bed, facing away from his master. “I could say the same about you, Master Fong.” Evan didn’t seem pleased with the man’s response, using a quick spell to replenish the bandages before tossing his wand back onto the nightstand. 

“What did he say?” Evan questioned. Jon didn’t respond; this wasn’t the sort of thing one talked about with their teacher, was it? And what advice would Evan give that the Prime Magician hadn’t already? Every magician at the temple was the same- taught the same lessons, taught the same values. Why should Evan be any different?

Jon felt the covers next to him move, and turned his head to see the magician peeling them back as slowly as he dared. He furrowed his eyebrows before taking the hint, then turning his head away once more. He stood, ultimately deciding robes wouldn’t be too comfortable to lay in, shedding layer by layer. He set them on a nearby chair and kicked off his sandals, choosing to put up with his underclothes and slide into the bed next to Evan.

They only lay there for a moment, Jonathan contemplating his words before speaking. “I...I tried to get the Magician to tell me more about the Horseman. I-I thought-” He felt tears gathering at his eyes again, still grateful for the darkness shrouding the room. “I thought that more information on him would help me in battle, but he told me…” 

Evan turned his head. “What did he say, Jonathan?”

The apprentice bit his lip. “He told me I didn’t have the right to tell him what I thought was for the better.” Evan remained still as Jonathan inhaled sharply, reaching up to wipe away more tears. He really neede to stop crying; his eyes hurt, and he was just wanted to go to bed. However, he was sure Evan still wanted a confession. 

Evan’s hand slowly reached upwards, taking Jon’s slowly. The apprentice turned his head, his expression twisted in bewilderment as Evan’s held a pitiful glance. Evan continued in his grip until Jonathan calmed down, letting his breath fall back into a pattern and allowing his tears to dry. Jonathan flipped on his side to face the man, their hands between them.

“I used to be the same way, Jonathan,” Evan finally spoke, his voice soft. “I’d always ask him about the Horseman, but he either repeated the same mantra over and over or ignored me altogether...he snapped at me once, too.” Jonathan let his eyes fall closed. “If the Prime Magician keeps anything from us, it’s for good reason- and that’s not coming from him. He isn’t trying to do you any harm, Jonathan, I promise he’s a good man…”

They fell silent again until Jonathan slid closer, breaking the hold they had on each other and instead opting to tuck the man’s head beneath his chin and drape an arm across Evan’s chest. The magician froze, and Jonathan could tell he’d never been in a situation such as that before. That was okay; Jonathan, before, had his fair share of partners, but he couldn’t recall any that felt the need to hold him as he did to Evan, now.

The younger eventually accepted it, his hand snaking up to rest upon Jonathan’s arm. The student only hoped it wasn’t hurting him. They were silent once more, both men not quite sure what exactly to say; both had an abundance of questions for the other, yet they suddenly couldn’t find their voices. 

Jonathan swore an hour had passed before he was finally able to speak. “I’m sorry, Evan,” He apologized, practically feeling the man’s face twist in confusion by his neck. He basked in the soft breaths hitting his skin; he took it as some sort of strange comfort.

“What for?” Evan replied. Jonathan closed his eyes, humming. 

“It’s weak of me,” Jonathan began, “Crying because I didn’t get my way...holding you because there’s no one else willing…” Evan remained silent. “The Horseman may as well be telling the truth about he being the Chosen One.”

Evan raised his chin, and Jonathan gazed down at him with such sadness he was sure he would start crying again. He couldn’t be sure what made him so utterly offended by Jonathan’s statement; the fact that it went against anything he’d ever learned, or that he was the one to insult himself in such a horrific manner. Either way, this wasn’t the Jonathan he was used to, the one he’d grown to adore so tremendously. This wasn’t the man who, come his accomplishments, revelled in them, pumping his fist in the air as if he’d just won a battle unscathed. He found himself bothered by how much it bugged him.

“Your weaknesses do not define you,” He replied, his voice shaking. “It is only the things you have done that people look up to- good or bad. And so far, the only thing these people can hold against you is your late start, which is barely plausible since- and I’m being completely honest-” Evan smiled sadly. “You’ve learned more in five months than any of us could have learned in five years. So if you want to go around and say you aren’t really the Chosen One- that your weaknesses hold you from such a title- well...I might just have to beat the shit out of you.”

At this, Jonathan finally smiled, closing his eyes once more, letting out a sigh, then a sniffle, then a hiccup. They fell into another silence, Jonathan sliding more close even still. Evan, hadn’t realizing the proximity of the situation, found his cheeks stained red as he relished in his apprentice’s hold. He knew it was inappropriate, for teacher and student to hold a relation such as they had now, but who was he to deny his pupil’s wellbeing?

This brought him to yet another question- what were they? Of course, any regular person would only see him as ‘master to the crown beneath God,’ or perhaps a Saint sent by Umbris herself, his only mission being that in serving his duty as the Knight’s Tutor. Certainly two of the most remarkable names he’d been titled over the years, given to him by the Higher Lords he’d come across during visits to their House. But if he were truly only Jonathan’s teacher, why was Umbris pushing them together in a much different, intimate way? He was certain Jonathan saw him as more than a friend than his master, and he could certainly say for himself that he saw Jonathan as more of a friend than his apprentice. 

This, he knew, was far from acceptable from the eyes of the Lords and the Nuns, who had taught generations in a proper and professional way. They would be utterly offended to know that all their hard work came down to practically nothing, as the Chosen One’s teacher decided to act more as a friend than an instructor. 

And yet, strangely, he knew that Jonathan wouldn’t have gotten as far if that weren’t the case. He wasn’t used to a stern, informed power in an education system. He was sure the closest thing he had were his teachers in school, which he most likely was unable to finish, or his old bosses, who were most likely as grimy as he assumed them to have been. When he’d found Jonathan, he’d found a man in need of a friendly figure- something he’d been deprived of his entire life.

He was cut short from his thoughts as Jonathan spoke once more, softly in his dazed state. He could tell that Jonathan would soon pass out. “I can feel another war coming...it’s unavoidable…” Evan remained silent. “Promise me you’ll protect me, Evan-” He hiccuped again. “I-I don’t wanna die...I don’t want you to die…”

“We aren’t going anywhere, Jonathan,” He replied, letting his own eyes fall closed. “If I had my way, I wouldn’t let anybody lay a single finger on you.”

He considered loosening his tongue then and there- spilling all of his truths, handing him all of his confessions, announcing every declaration of love he’d played through his mind since the first took its shape- but Jonathan was already asleep.

~#~

“It proves rather difficult,” Brian admitted, “Forming a strategy. We have little to no information on the False Knight. He’s done absolutely nothing for thirty years, and he’s only been active these past five months. Even in death, Fong has done well with his duty at keeping the False Knight safe.”

The Chosen One, a deathly shadow with a flicker of flame, stood at the window, watching the droplets of rain cascade down his window. A roar of thunder shook the castle, and Brock jumped in his seat. Brian’s hand slid under the table, resting a comforting hand on the man’s thigh. 

“I agree with Admiral Hanby,” Across the table, a man much older than himself spoke, perhaps too old to sit upon the Chosen One’s council of admirals. If the Chosen One decided to kill him any time soon, he wasn’t sure he’d feel any remorse. That admiral wasn’t the kindest; then again, neither was Brian. “It would be unwise to run towards the fire with no plan concerning how to extinguish it.”

The man turned slowly towards the other admiral, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at each blank face surrounding the table. Brock was the only one who showed even an inch of emotion, but Brian knew for a fact that the Chosen One would let it slide. He’d always been fond of Brock, for some peculiar reason he couldn’t quite place.

“And how do you suggest,” The man began, taking heavy steps towards the table, leaning his palms upon the surface. He glared towards the previously spoken admiral, and Brian kept his eyes downcast. “We come upon more information, _Admiral_?”

The man fell silent, swallowing in his throat though never tearing his eyes away. Breaking contact with the Chosen One when he acknowledged you was a mere death-wish- he’d seen the extent of his wavering patience, and he wasn’t sure he cared to see it again.

“I-I am still uncertain, Your Majesty,” The admiral responded. “I shall gather more information as soon as possible.” The Chosen One said nothing more, letting out a forced sigh as he turned away from the table, taking slow steps back towards the window overlooking the moat at the front of the castle. The rain beat on the water like a drum.

“War is at our doorstep, gentlemen.” He stated coldly, his voice growing deep. “The False Knight is gaining more power with each passing day,” He turned back to the table, resting a hand on the windowsill. “We must prepare our forces, for I fear that, before we are able to find him, again, he will have already arrived with an army.”

“Pardon, Your Majesty,” Another admiral spoke up. “Your plan is to simply wait for the False Knight to come to us?”

“It’s our best option, I believe,” Brian replied. “We would have the higher ground. From here, the land only travels south, and the castle has many advantages in terms of height and defense. It also has many hidden passages, which would make it easier for any magician who knows the layout to move around.”

“But that would ruin the castle-” Another admiral tried to intervene, but the Chosen One spoke before he could.

“We will have another one undergo construction. Admiral Slater,” The Chosen One looked directly to Brock, and the man froze. Brian slipped his hand into the other’s beneath the table. “See to it that we have another castle built- Africa, perhaps- there aren’t too many enemies in Africa.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Brock replied, swallowing in his throat. The Chosen One smirked, approaching and landing a hand on the man’s shoulder as he passed. Brian squeezed his hand tighter, and Brock did the same. “I’ll see to it immediately.”

The Chosen One stopped in the doorway, turning back to his admirals as they each stood to their feet. He smirked again to himself, looking each of them in the eye with a glance that could only be described as a warning. “Our time has finally come, gentleman.”

~#~

“Carpe sanguinem tamquam oblationem Renuntiatio, officium, et pacem,” Ryan slid the knife across his forearm, not so close to his wrist as to slit them, but only to draw an abundance of the blood required. He clenched his fists, letting his eyes fall closed. The blood began to drip to the floor upon the wax. Candles dripped under order of the spell, its contents forming a pentagram he’d only ever witnessed in books. The blood began to flow through the wax, becoming evermore crimson. The flickers from the candles soon began to take the form of flames. 

“Forgive me, Lord Umbris, as I have not exceeded your expectations as Prime Magician. If you would grant me access, I am willing to ascend in shame, but also in peace, if only I may have your blessing,” Ryan opened his eyes again, gazing down at the mess he’d made. He placed the knife delicately in the center of the pentagram. “Come my death, I wish my duties bestowed upon my apprentice.”

He leaned forward, placing his hands upon the hard stone of the chamber, his forehead a mere inch from the ground. “Grant my wish, Dear Lord, and I swear upon my soul to serve you until my last breath…”

The fire from the five candles suddenly burst into an inferno before settling almost immediately, the heat of the blast echoing off of his bare skin. He smiled sadly to himself as he sat up, his arm still bleeding, his knees hurting, and his heart pounding in his chest.

The ritual had been a success. Umbris had listened to his plea. Evan’s fate had been secured- now, he only had to fight a war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't be freaked out by Ryan, he'll be ok. also, updates may be even slower STILL, since im stupid and decided to start another story for another fandom. this story has somewhere around six or seven chapters left, so i hope you guys can hang on that long. and thank y'all so much for comments, i try to respond to them as quick as possible, but please understand it sometimes takes me a while to get back to them. thank you all for reading !!!


	14. Sign of the Times

If Jonathan had it any other way, he would be asleep; his focus was unrelenting, solely focused on the book in his lap. His eyes had been scanning the same page for half an hour, a summoned dummy across the room as he sat in his chair. He’d been twirling his wand in his free hand, casting his magic towards mannequin with each new spell he learned.

He learned that, even if he was sitting, with nothing but the flick of his wrist, it was still draining. By the fifth hour of practicing, well near two in the morning, he was drawing close to unconsciousness. Rocket sat clawing at his feet, practically begging him to pay attention to her (or perhaps, begging him to sleep, he couldn’t be sure). With a spell of deterioration upon inanimate objects, the dummy fell to the floor in dust, and he swept it with a final spell of sweeping. He couldn’t be sure where the particles went and, at the time, he was too tired to find out.

When he awoke the next morning, his back was stiff from sleeping in that chair, in which he solemnly regretted. He forced himself into a new set of robes and out of the room, Rocket at his heel. He found his way to the dining hall, already being late as he was, and grumbling a few words to his masters as he grabbed the plate Evan had set out for him. He made his way back to his room, then laying upon his bed and shoveling as much food as he could into his mouth before he passed out. When he woke up again three hours later, he ate the vegetables Rocket hadn’t yet snatched from him.

He made his way to he and Evan’s cliffside, leaving his affiliate in the room. He’d also stripped his robes and slipped into more comfortable pants, as accomplishing both meditation and tai chi in clothing as stiff as those was no easy feat. So, he settled himself by the cliff’s edge, and he didn’t leave for another three hours. He spent another hour going through his tai chi routine, and another practicing battle tactics with Rocket, and the next attempting to move any item in sight through object manipulation. 

When he was finished, he joined the others for dinner, deciding that- for once that month- he’d eat with them. He’d forgotten lunch, again, but his masters didn’t say anything about it.

~#~

“He’s doing it, again,” Craig spoke in a hushed tone, Tyler looming over him to his right. They walked at a common pace down the halls, waving to each magician that passed. “He’s skipping meals to practice. I’m sure he’s gonna fall over, one of these days here soon.”

“He’s advancing with his own schedule, now. He doesn’t need our help, and he doesn’t want us to interfere.” Tyler replayed what they’d been told by the Prime Magician, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Craig stopped, putting his arm on his lover’s arm. They faced each other, though Tyler knew he’d said exactly what the other hadn’t wanted to hear. He swallowed in his throat.

“Tyler, if he does this every day, he won’t even last long enough to defeat the Horseman. He’s not eating, and he’s using too much of his energy. Hell, I only see him twice a day, at most!” Tyler sighed, slipping his arm through Craig’s as they began to walk once more.

“He’s been here for a year, now. It’s only wise if we leave him to his own decisions- they’ll be the decisions that grant us a victory,” Tyler squeezed Craig’s arm gently. “He’s finished his basics with his teachers, and now, it’s time he learns on his own. He’s chasing his own destiny. He’ll be fine.”

~#~

This was not good. This was not good at all.

Evan was sure this day would come, but he hadn’t expected it so soon; Jonathan had finally passed out, right outside his door. He must have been coming back from the cliffside when he collapsed, and he had hit the sturdy wood so hard he swore the entire temple could hear it. And Rocket had seemingly decided to do nothing, just hopping onto her master’s back and curling up to take a nap. 

So, he sent off Vanoss to retrieve Luke as he dragged his apprentice into his room, Rocket stumbling along. He managed to lift Jonathan onto his bed, then deciding to rid of the man’s robes, leaving him in his undershirt. Rocket wasted no time jumping up as well, curling under his arm with a nasty look to Evan for previously disturbing her slumber.

He suddenly though back to the last time Jonathan had been in his bed, after his apprentice’s detrimental conversation with the Prime Magician. His mind, as twisted as he already felt it was, could still feel Jonathan’s skin upon his own, warm, comforting flesh. He recalled how the pain in his abdomen had just seemed to slip away. What had made him the most ecstatic, however, was how Jonathan had been the one to initiate the act. He simply hated himself every time he forgot that his apprentice has only snuggled up to him out of need for emotional support. When he remembered that piece, he had to remind himself to forget it had ever happened.

Luke hurried in with the Prime Magician behind him and Vanoss on his shoulder, the doctor carrying a moderately small case in his hands (he most likely didn’t need much.) The owl opted to sit upon his master’s shoulder as Luke sat on the other side of the bed, gently patting Rocket before reaching his hand over to feel the pulse at his neck.

“His pulse is slower than normal, and from the looks of it-” He pulled up Jonathan’s shirt, exposing his chest. The clear sight of ribs was worrisome. “He must have fainted from lack of nutrition, maybe even lack of sleep with those bags under his eyes.”

Craig suddenly appeared in the doorway, Tyler (unhappily) in tow. “Oh god, I was right. Did he fall over?” Evan nodded solemnly, licking his chapped lips. The magician stepped into the room, though careful not to step too close to the bed.

Luke pulled out his wand, resting the tip upon Jonathan’s forehead. “Nutritionem ad tempus,” A few seconds later, the unconscious man stirred, groaning. The doctor pulled away, grabbing his case and standing. “Keep him in bed. Get him immediate food and water, and for Umbris’ sake, don’t let him cast any more spells for at least a day or two.”

Luke left swiftly with the Prime Magician following wordlessly behind, Tyler deciding to go with them. Craig was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I can go get him bread, if you wanna...erm…”

Evan remained silent, and the other magician closed the door behind him as he took his leave. Jonathan looked up at his teacher, his face twisted in a frown. “What’re you doin’ here?” He slurred, reaching a hand up to rub his eyes.

“You collapsed outside of my room five minutes ago. You’re in the same place you decided to take a nap.” Jonathan paused before groaning again, letting his hand fall by his side whilst careful not to disturb Rocket too much. “I can’t let you fall asleep, again. You have to eat something, first.”

“Mmph...just cast a spell...where’s my wand…” Jonathan looked around, and Evan sighed as Craig made his entrance with a tray in hand. “M’ not hungry…”

“Yes, you are,” Craig replied, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed. Evan took the liberty of grabbing his apprentice’s sides and somewhat propping him up, much to Jonathan’s displeasure. “No more training until you’re nourished, again.”

Jonathan groaned, and Craig responded by shoving a spoon of soup in the man’s mouth before holding out a piece of bread he’d torn from the loaf. Rocket repositioned herself one last time, and one could say Jonathan, after long months of vigorous, relentless training, finally felt tired.

~#~

Ten months ago, he hadn’t expected known what to think when he’d first stepped foot on that cliffedge; now, still worn and fatigued, his history was beginning to repeat itself.

Gathering his thoughts was such a chore, even more so to practice as he’d done in such a zealous manner all those months ago. As much as he hated to admit it, it felt like he- the Chosen One- was left at square one, again. Well, square two, maybe- he knew the spells, he just couldn’t quite think of any particular one without coming to a roadblock. His head hurt just trying to recall how to turn water into wine.

He looked down at the rocks so far below, never having considered the sheer depth of the overhang below him; he knew there was an opening below it, eligible to reach after traveling down a couple flights of stairs through the temple and taking a sharp right. He suddenly wondered how he knew the layout of the temple better than the spells vital to his future. He’d barely even cared to explore the rest of it after the first few days of his presence. It wasn’t as if there were anything there, just more rooms for the other hundred or so magicians at the temple. Lately, the numbers had climbed with an oncoming war as they needed more soldiers present. This, he couldn’t understand, because there were five other temples around the globe (the South American Temple still uninhabited after the Horseman left his scars there). 

He suddenly thought of his own temple; what if the Horseman tried to strike there next? What if he somehow knew Jonathan was temporarily weak, too worn to accomplish anything or even defend his people? He was certain Evan would fight to his last breath- and just that was what terrified him. They had come to far already, and he’d be damned if he lost his master, now. Speaking of Evan-

“Jonathan,” He didn’t bother to turn as he heard a familiar voice, having grown less demanding over the year he’d been at the temple. At least, when they were alone; he used to be such an authoritarian in Jon’s presence, but now, they spoke as if they were close friends. He wondered if they were. He’d been doing a lot of wondering, lately. “You’re awful close to the edge.”

“...” Jonathan clenched his hand, then releasing it. He made no movement to step away. He felt like he could barely move his legs from where he stood. “It’s a long way down.”

Evan took a familiar place at Jonathan’s side, gazing outwards towards the rising sun while his student prefered to keep his gaze downcast towards the rocks. “I thought you’d be used to the height, by now.” 

Jonathan hummed, his lids drooping slightly. “I guess I’m just seeing from a new pair of eyes.” Evan didn’t respond, only reaching his hand up to remove the hat from atop his head; he’d been wearing the same obnoxious yet casual hats for a year, now. He wasn’t bothered, just a bit...tired.

“I’ve been meaning to try something new with you,” Evan finally spoke, and Jonathan turned his head They met each other’s eye, their gaze relentless. Jonathan felt it grew stronger every day, almost like some sort of challenge he couldn’t quite comprehend the terms of. “When I was in training, the Prime Magician would lead me through yoga exercises. It never helped with stress, but it isn’t for everyone, I guess.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“You’re too stressed to know the answer to that. Now, come on,” He spun Jonathan in the other direction and took him by the shoulder, leading him a few meters or so into the grass where it still lay thin and helped Jonathan out of his robes, leaving him in an undershirt and trousers. Jonathan couldn’t recall ever sliding on his shoes. Turns out, he never did. Marcel was probably going to be furious when he came to pick up Jon’s laundry and saw the grass stains on his socks, he pondered to himself. He couldn’t find any humor in the statement.

Evan folded their robes swiftly and neatly, setting both they and his hat upon a nearby rock before returning to his student’s side. Jonathan felt a warm feeling spread through his chest; he and Evan hadn’t had a lesson in a month or so, not to mention he refusing training from his other masters a couple months before. He’d gone solo, convincing himself that it was for the best, yet he knew he would always accept the lessons Evan was willing to teach. 

Evan lastly drew his shirt over his head, exposing his bare skin to the surprisingly warm air. It was spring, but he had expected it to be chillier even still; they were fairly high up. He assumed there was some sort of spell cast over the temple to keep it a decent temperature year-round. 

His teacher took his position facing the cliffside, Jonathan standing a couple meters behind. “This shouldn’t be too difficult- just watch and repeat,” He hummed in reply as Evan moved, beginning the routine. Jonathan remained still, somewhat entranced by the way his instructor’s muscles rippled with every slight action. He knew Evan had a workout routine, though he was never sure what it entailed. It certainly couldn’t have been from conducting magic; he’d been at the temple an entire year and hadn’t grown any stronger from just casting spells this way and that.

“Jonathan? Are you alright?” Evan stood up straight, looking over his shoulder. He turned around completely when Jonathan only continued to stare at the man’s chest, deep in his own thoughts. He registered the slight dust in Evan’s cheeks, and looked up with furrowed brows. “Jon?”

He felt oddly like he was floating on his own still feet. He knew Evan was calling for him, he knew it would be wise to respond to his master, yet his mind had his tongue on a leash, his voice restrained. When Evan stepped closer, their bodies inches apart as his instructor placed his hands on Jonathan’s cheeks. He paid no mind as Evan turned his head this way and that, searching for some sort of sign with his brows furrowed. Yet, he kept his eyes on Evan’s, unrelenting.

He didn’t stop himself as he leaned into his master, his body just seeming to collapse. Evan groaned as they hit the ground, his bare skin probably hitting a few rocks here and there. Jonathan let out a low sound in his throat, something between a moan and a grunt as his face digged into his teacher’s bare skin. When Evan let out a string of curses, trying to pry his student from his skin, Jonathan only latched onto the man, feeling his mind slip further into a sleepy state.

“Mm...you’re really warm, ‘Van….” The man scoffed before letting out a heavy sigh. Defeated, he lay on the ground with his arms spread as if he refused to accept Jonathan’s embrace. “You’re always so warm…” 

Evan’s face went beet red, and was most certainly glad Jonathan fell asleep then and there as to not see it (though, he was still disappointed in his student). 

~#~

“Don’t lie to yourself, Craig. You can see it, too.”

The younger magician paced back and forth, catching the eyes of the three affiliates sprawled out by their master sitting on the edge of the bed. Craig had to admit, Tyler had a point; Evan and Jonathan, for the last year, had grown more and more clingy to each other with each passing day. Now, Jonathan had the gall to pass out right on his teacher- while Evan was half-naked!- and pretend like it had never happened in the first place. As Craig had expected, Evan went along with it the next day.

“They’re pining, Craig.”

“I know they are, Tyler!” He raked his hands through his hair as the other man only smirked in silence. Craig eventually groaned as he lay himself down at the top of the bed, bringing a pillow to his chest and wrapping his arms securely around it. “This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.”

“You said that before you dragged me into your bed…” Tyler took a sip of wine before having a pillow launched at his back, and he laughed. Craig huffed. “A relationship between them won’t interfere with the war effort, if that’s what you’re implying. If anything, I think they’ll be better off together than apart.”

“But that’s just it, Tyler. It _will_ interfere with the war effort. Evan was placed in charge of Jonathan by the Lords for a reason- to teach him, and to grow no closer. Now, they’re best friends, practically boyfriends already-”

“Practically?”

“Basically. So when the Lords find out-”

“ _If_ the Lords find out-”

“If the Lords find out, they’ll be separated, and they’ll refuse to fight at all. Not to mention that, if they _don’t_ find out, and one of them ends up getting killed-”

“The other will be devastated. You’re repeating your own words, Craig. You’ve already nagged to me about this before-”

“Neither of us were the veteran or the apprentice, were we?” Craig snapped, and Tyler sat up straight to look at the man over his shoulder. He knew how much this meant to Craig, but no matter how things would play out, he knew the Chosen One would prevail. He only wished Craig was able to see that, even after all these years of hearing the prophecies being preached time and time again.

Instead of choosing the rash way to handle things, he only stood and placed his wine glass on the bedside table, then climbing back into bed beside Craig. The man turned his back with another huff, but Tyler wrapped his arms around the smaller body, his breaths gentle on the other’s neck.

“I’m gonna go talk to Evan about it. Everything’s gonna work out fine, I promise.” Craig refused to answer as Tyler once again stood to his feet, leaving his affiliates and his lover behind as he closed the door softly after him. 

~#~

“I’m not really sure when it started,” Tyler hummed in his throat, leaning back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other. “I guess I’ve always had this...infatuation with him, even before I met him.”

“That comes with being his mentor from birth, yes,” Evan licked his chapped lips, his hands digging into the covers. In the chair across from him, Tyler made no indication that he’d noticed, yet he was almost certain Evan knew just how keen Tyler was at deducting. “What do you like about him in particular?”

“I-I don’t know…” Evan bobbed his leg before he stopped himself, instead latching his hands between his thighs. “He’s just...different- well, he was when he showed up, but...you know...this place- the prophecy- it changes you, Chosen One or not.

“I’d kind of hoped it wouldn’t get to him, but I still like him- a-a lot- and...I don’t know…” Evan’s eyes practically penetrated the floorboards by the bed with how anxiously he gazed at them. Tyler placed his elbow on the chair’s arm, resting his head upon it.

“Craig once informed me of how charmed Jonathan was with the way we speak,” He began. “‘Said Jon thought it made him feel kinda dumb. If only he could see the way you speak about him.” 

Evan smiled sadly, nodding and licking his chapped lips again. “I don’t really know what to think when I see him. I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure he feels the same way- you two are just too dumb to talk to each other about it.” Evan, as if it were an instinct, shook his head. 

“N-No, he doesn’t. He can’t. Even if he did, it would be-”

“An abomination to the Lords, I know,” Evan opened his mouth as to say something, only to close it again. “Craig and I have already argued over that. But you wanna know what I think?” Tyler leaned in, and Evan lifted his head slightly to meet the other’s eye with a nervous glance. “I think all of that crap about you and Jon together would disrupt your mission is a bunch of bullshit.

“Back sometime in Ancient Greece- I don’t know shit about dates- there was this dude who decided that, ‘if we put a bunch of gay people together to make an army, they’ll fight harder and better, if only for their loved one’. And you know what? That shit worked. It worked so well, and they kicked so much ass, that everybody was fucking _happy_ about it.”

“So you’re saying-”

“Yes, I’m saying that, now go and fuck him before it’s too late!” Tyler stood swiftly from his chair, striding out of the room with his robes flowing behind him. The door shut, yet Evan didn’t move; he sat there at the edge of the bed in the same position he’d been in before, his eyes downcast as he ran Tyler’s vulgar (yet helpful) words through his brain. 

“Before it’s too late…”

He could imagine multiple scenarios in which those words would apply- yet, the one that lingered in his brain, was an image of Jonathan dying in his arms, the truth he had meant to say remaining unspoken when the Chosen One’s body befell lifeless.

~#~

“It’s been a year, sir. He probably knows even more than I, and even if he knew less, I’m sure he would still be able to defeat the Horseman.” Evan watched, still sulking from the corner, as Tyler tried to persuade the Prime Magician. He himself was anxious, but that came with the job, really; no amount of training could ever help his brain hop into the right mindset to prepare for war. “If we wait any longer, the Horseman will be sure to attack our temple- even with you here.”

“I do not see myself as the most powerful of Prime Magicians, and neither should you,” The man looked back at Tyler from the window, his hands stuffed into his pockets. Every day, the circles under his eyes grew darker, and the skin in his face grew closer to the skull. “I am just like the others- but now, we know the Horseman is willing to target an entire temple. He caught them off-guard, and the remaining six temples will not make the same mistake.”

“You are not seeing the point, my lord!” Tyler practically begged, his hands flying drastically through the air. “Jonathan has regained his strength, and is as prepared as he could possibly be for war! If we wait any longer, the Horseman will advance upon us!” 

The Prime Magician only gazed down the room with those tired eyes he’d bore for months, shoulders slacked and most certainly unpresidented for a man of such high power as he. Evan felt a pang in his chest; he should work harder to make sure his boss is healthy. Without him, the entire operation would surely fall apart. He hadn’t lived as long as he had just to present his worst self in their time of need.

Instead of snapping back, the man only made his way around his desk, slowly descending the small sets of stairs down to the lowest tier where Tyler stood. When he gazed up at the master, there was no challenging spirit, no sharp rebuttals, no _life_ \- only sheer acceptance. Evan’s jaw went slightly slack as his head fell a bit to the side. 

“I will send word to the other Lords and the leaders of the other temples,” The Prime Magician’s voice was so quiet Evan could barely hear. He bounced his shoulder off the wall and took a step forward. “If I am able, I will gather a few here to assist in the war effort. I need you to work with Mark and the other masters to rally our people and gather what we need. We will advance upon the enemy in a week’s time.”

“How do you know where they are?” Evan piped up, and the Prime Magician looked to him sadly.

“Over the years, I’ve found it quite hard to forget.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAR IS UPON US, DEAR READERS
> 
> there are about six chapters left (hallelujah). if i can, i will get this story done before may of next year. now, i know that sounds like a long time, but i am really short on both time and motivation to write. i'm trying to produce the best content with those holding me back, and i'm thankful i manage to push myself to get anything done EVER, really.
> 
> thank you for the kudos and the amazing comments. i couldn't ask for more!


	15. Imagine

“You don’t have to contribute; just sitting there and nodding is good enough for the Lords. You’ll be sat at the head of the table, so don’t fuck this up.” Evan kept a steady hand on the small of Jonathan’s back as they marched towards the meeting room he’d never had any reason to enter until now. “The Prime Magicians of the other temples will be there, so please, make our own temple look good and display proper etiquette.”

“The more you tell me, the more nervous I am,” Jonathan admitted, and Evan paused in the empty hall as he turned his apprentice towards him. “The highest authority I’ve spoken with is our own Prime Magician. How can you seriously expect me to not fuck up around the other five, along with a handful of Lords?”

Evan took a step closer, looking down both ends of the hall as if he expected to see someone turn a corner and see them at such a close proximity. Jonathan was mostly unfazed at the short gap between them, despite his cheeks growing slightly warm. 

Evan considered his words before speaking. “Do you remember your first morning here?” Jonathan hummed. “We were at breakfast, and we had to explain the whole chain of command among magicians to you.You remember when Tyler told you how he’d turned down the position of Lord, and in such a...carefree manner?”

After a moment, Jonathan nodded. That had been nearly a year ago. 

“My point is, they’re not as big as you would think they are; yes, they’re one of the highest power beneath the gods, but you are God’s Knight himself. You have held more power than they ever could have grasped from the moment you were born. When we walk into that room, just please remember,” Evan placed his hand on Jonathan’s cheek, and the man looked back with tired eyes. “You’re the Chosen One for a reason.”

~#~

The Prime Magicians, in equal power to the Lords, sat on the opposite end of the table; Jonathan’s own Magician was sat at the head, next to an empty seat with the one opposite to that occupied, along with two other seats next to both. The rest of the table was occupied by the other Lords, with the Masters standing by the wall. Evan stood by Jonathan’s side out of sight, while Luke and Mark stood by his Prime Magician in a similar fashion. Jonathan was sat in the largest and perhaps most dramatic chair, with its back standing a foot above his head. 

The room settled and the Prime Magician- well, it would be best to think of him as Ryan, at the moment- stood to his feet, clearing his throat. There wasn’t an ounce of anxiousness displayed on his being as he spoke. “Good morning, gentleman. I do believe this meeting can conveen.

“We only have ten Lords present with us from the House, but I assume the rest will be joining during battle?” A few mumbled in reply, and Jonathan began to feel the cold air of the room. No one wanted to be there, but they had been preparing for this war for centuries- it would be idiotic not to show up. “I would now like to introduce to you all, for anyone who has not come across him yet, our long-awaited Chosen One.”

The room turned to Jonathan, and he kept a straight face as he remained still. They all seemed somewhat confused, as if they had been expecting someone else, although that seemed to be a normal thing for him, now. He looked down the table to see Ryan with an expectant look in his eye. They wanted him to speak.

“Hello, sirs,” He swallowed in his throat with a nervous smile. “It’s an honor to meet you all.” 

The man next to him- stark white hair despite looking not a day over forty- took Jonathan’s hand into his own, cradling one palm above and one below. Somehow, he seemed unfazed by this, and met the man’s burning blue eyes. “We have waited a very long time for you, Your Highness.”

“H-Highness-?” He looked to Ryan, seeing the man smiling, though in somewhat of a melancholic way. 

“You are considered royalty among magicians,” Ryan informed him. “I decidedly held back from referring to you as your official status, as I feared you may grow very...cocky about it.” Jonathan could only stare ahead before he looked to Evan, seeing his teacher smile back at him.

The hands left his own and he fell back into his seat, flabbergasted. Ryan then pulled out his wand, first whisking away the only light from the candles adorning the table, and summoning a cloud of purple stars as Tyler had done for him nearly a year ago. The cloud, in itself, was bright enough to illuminate the entire room.

“We will run through the plan we have made. If anyone has any comments or changes, please, do not wait until the end to speak. His Highness will have the final say in the plan.” Jonathan was brought fully to attention. There had been so much he hadn’t been informed of; yes, he was aware the others would follow him into battle, but to have him formulate the final plan? Just the thought made his chest grow tighter.

“We know where the enemy lay, and we are certain he will be expecting company. Not only may he have forces ready, but he will also have the advantage point on our ground troops, as the Horseman’s base is seated uphill,” Ryan started. Above, the cloud began to shape into a castle of sorts, with tall, looming towers and a moat surrounding it. Around it, trees seemed to pile upon one another until a forest was seated, guarding the base. “However, we will have cover, for the most part. There are plenty of spaces wide enough for our airborne troops to hide until the battle ensues.”

“So we simply charge in?” To his right, three seats down, a Lord spoke. “That is practically suicide!”

“We don’t have much other choice,” Another man spoke. “For some reason, the Horseman hasn’t left his castle since the massacre in the Amazon. He’s plotting something, and surely, he’ll use it against us during battle!” 

“I have an inqueery,” A Prime Magician now spoke, twirling his wand in his hand with a foot propped against the edge of the table. “During the massacre, the Horseman took all but the Orb in the deep chambers,” Jonathan leaned forward, listening silently. He hadn’t been informed of any of this; all he could gather was that the massacre was a warning sign. “I am certain that, whatever he’s plotting, it involves that item.”

“He doesn’t know how to use it-” Ryan spoke in hushed disbelief, taking a seat. “He can’t.”

Another voice was heard at the table. “He has had long enough to piece together all he needs to perform such a ritual.”

“Even still, the item can only be used once, and can only be used for an exceptionally small period of time. If he uses it without an exact target, everything within a ten mile radius- including himself and his men- would be totally annihilated.” It seemed one man at the table would speak, and the rest would grumble their replies instead of speaking them allowed. Even still, Jonathan felt he had no room to speak. He looked to Evan to see the man staring at the ground, thinking. Next to him, Tyler, Craig and Marcel each exchanged hushed words between each other.

“And if he does have a target?” The man next to Jonathan spoke, looking to the head of the table. “That target would most certainly be His Highness.” 

He felt his heart drop as all eyes once again fell on him, and he looked to Evan to see the man with a devastated look in his eye. This made Jonathan feel all the more empty-handed in his chances. “Prime Theodoric, has His Highness been trained to conquer such power?” 

He looked to the head of the table, where Ryan stood with hands clasped behind his back and a blank face; Jonathan couldn’t read him in the slightest. Though, he assumed it wouldn’t be wise to show too many emotions with all the people surrounding them- at least, that’s what he’d gathered from movies.

“I can assure you, gentlemen, His Highness has had the best of training from one of my own apprentices. I believe he is completely capable of the task he has been destined to fulfill.” By the wall, Evan gave a subtle smirk in pride, and Jon smiled to himself. Evan looked best when he was content. He only hoped that contentment would last, if only for a little while longer. 

A Lord further down the table then spoke after a moment of silence. “If I may, I have a suggestion for the plan,” Jon leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin atop of enclosed fingers. “I believe that we should use our forces to lead His Highness to wherever on that property the Horseman may be, and leave him to fight his battle alone while the rest of the war wages on its own.”

“Shouldn’t an all-out war be unavoidable?” Jonathan spoke his thought allowed and, by the time he realized it was too late to leave it unexplained, he opened his mouth again. “I mean, I could just fight him alone. The prophecy never mentioned anything about a war.”

The room fell heavy in silence. Ryan looked to him with melancholy practically dripping from his eyes, then speaking. “As much as a more peaceful resolution would be, it simply wouldn’t work. When the Horseman dies and leaves his army behind, someone will step up and take his place, and we know by now that those who take his side never return to ours. No one ever has.”

“So we just- we just kill them?” Jonathan’s head was rushing a mile a minute, his thoughts tumbling out all at once, and he knew he should stop himself, yet he found himself unable. “All of them? You shouldn’t kill someone just because of what they believe in. Yeah, they killed everyone in the Amazon temple, but they were just following blindly behind their leader!”

“Your Highness-” Ryan tried to reason with him, but he could only continue. 

“Maybe if we could just _talk_ to them and come to some sort of agreement, we can let the Horseman call himself whatever he wants as long as he doesn’t go around killing anyone else-”

“Jonathan, hold your tongue.” Evan spat from the corner, and he was stopped dead in his tracks as he turned his head. His friend looked at him with a stern gaze, holding a hint of sadness within, though he was sure he was the only one to notice.

He fell back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. There was nothing left to say but the truth- “I don’t want to fight, anymore.”

~#~

He’d eventually removed himself from the room. They had all agreed that they’d form a plan without him, hand it over, and give him time to come to terms with it. He could tell some of the men in that room had pitied him, but he couldn’t find any strength left inside to pity himself. 

He had found himself on the cliffside he and Evan shared, still dressed in his formal clothing; the cloak on his back seemed to fly weightlessly and effortlessly through the wind as he stood at the edge. It seemed that, every time he glanced down the side of the mountain, the drop looked to be steeper, but only slightly so. 

He began to consider how close to death he stood. Jonathan had spent a lot of time at the edge of that cliff, and yet, he’d never once been afraid of it. He hadn’t ever considered jumping, either. He wasn’t now, he told himself, though the thought seemed somewhat...comforting, in a sense. He could escape destiny if he just stepped forward. Or perhaps, that was his destiny? To taken from the world, right where he had been truly born into it?

His mind suddenly went nearly blank, and all that was left was a single memory. It was his first- well, second memory of he and Evan. He’d just awoken at the temple for the second time, and Evan had seemed like the biggest asshole in the world, yet it couldn’t have bothered him even if he’d wanted it to. In fact, that morning, he’d been more content than he had been for many years prior. 

It was amazing how much he’d changed in a year. He had used to feel the magic around him, tickling his mind and prodding at his skin. Now, it seemed he had taken in so much, he just felt numb each time he used it, and even more so when he used it in large quantities. He now found it difficult to crack a joke or be anything other than serious. All of the false joy he had put on display had come and gone, and he knew the emptiness in his chest had replaced it. 

His facade had been broken. He was nothing but a shell. So then, what was this warmth in his stomach?

It was a feeling that came with the breeze, really. It was pleasantly sporadic, and he felt it most when he was around those he loved- Tyler, Craig, Marcel, Rocket- hell, even Luke. But he felt it the most when he was around Evan.

Jonathan couldn’t define their relationship. Some nights, when either one of them felt like shit more than the average person should, they would spend the night together, sharing a bed with their affiliates cuddling in the corner (Rocket scowled when he teased her, but he knew she had a bond with Vanoss, nonetheless). They found comfort in it, and soon, it became normal to them, and somewhat strange when they _didn’t_ share a bed. 

He knew Tyler and Craig shared a room, but that was because they were in a romantic relationship, while the bond between he and Evan was- he should say- platonic. However, this word didn’t really sit quite right with him. He knew it was what defined it, and it was exactly the word he had searched for, yet he longed desperately to find another.

~#~

Jonathan’s pace was steady and hesitant, indulging himself in the comforting feeling of Rocket at his heel, her fur gently bouncing off of his pant leg. His eyes searched around for a familiar face- Evan, he hoped- and eventually saw him speeding through the hall horizontal to him. 

The veteran stopped in his tracks, letting his shoulders drop in relief as he made his way timidly towards his apprentice. Jonathan stopped as well, allowing the man to approach him. “I’ve been looking for you for ten minutes. Are you okay?”

“It doesn’t matter,” His eyes met the ground in shame. “I’m sorry, Master Fong. I spoke out of turn during the meeting. It won’t happen again.”

Evan sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands on Jonathan’s shoulders. “Don’t do that. You had the right to speak your mind, but...perhaps that hadn’t been the best time?” Jon let out a shaky breath, and Evan’s hand, once again, placed itself on his student’s cheek. “I know the men sitting in that room. I’m certain over half of them agreed with your every word, or at least were swayed by them, but you know this war has waged too long to just come to a draw. We _all_ know that.”

Jonathan kept his eyes on the ground, though he leaned in to the touch, swallowing in his throat. His hands reached up hesitantly to place it upon Evan’s own, though he pulled away before he allowed himself the pleasure. He needed to present himself in a more professional manner, even in front of his friends. He knew this, though he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept it. He didn’t even have a choice in the matter.

Even if it meant depriving himself of all of life’s glories, he would be the Chosen One the people depended on. 

Evan seemed taken aback, though quickly wiped the expression from his face as he turned his side to the hall he’d come from. He placed a tentative hand on Jonathan’s elbow, beckoning him. “Come, there are some people you must meet.”

They exchanged no words after until they arrived at one of the temple’s many resting points, a cozy area between halls with a windowless, railed balcony overlooking the valley below. Marcel stood in the corner, handing sliced oranges to Daisy, who was comfortably seated on his shoulder. Tyler sat in one of the singled chairs to the left while three Lords occupied the couch, while Craig was seated in a chair to the right. Tyler’s affiliates were all piled up in the corner opposite to Marcel, barely awake. They all turned their attention to he and Evan as they entered the room.

The Lord closest to Tyler he recognized, as he had sat by Jonathan’s side during the meeting. He was the first to speak, bearing a smile as he stood and bowed briefly. “Your Highness, it is an honor.”

Jonathan gave a subtle grin, nodding as the man approached. “You as well,” He responded.

Evan cleared his throat. “Ah, Your Highness, this is Lord Abbott, Tyler’s father and husband of the _High_ Lord Abbot,” He gestured the man in the center of the couch as he stood, straightening his stocky military jacket. He seemed much more threatening than the husband Jon had met prior.

Tyler approached with his other father, and Jonathan ended up shaking hands with both of the man’s fathers. Evan then gestured to the last man seated at the couch. “And this is Lord Thompson, Craig’s father.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Jonathan put on his best smile, trying to seem as pleased as he possibly could in his state. In truth, he was both terrified and somewhat excited to be meeting his friends’ parents.

He suddenly thought back to the conversation he had shared with Evan’s deceased father all those months ago. He suddenly realized he’d never known what had happened to Evan’s mother, though he was clearly shown his father’s fate. He then thought of how little his friends were permitted to see their parents. If Evan’s mother was still alive somewhere, he couldn’t even imagine how much he must long for her. Jon was sure he would feel something more, if he could only relate.

“I’ve heard much good of your progress during the past year,” Lord Abbott inclined, and he turned his attention back to the subject at hand. “I must say, I have never seen such astounding improvement! Of course, I expected as such from His Highness, though not of this rate.”

Jonathan flushed, smiling to himself. “Ah, thank you, sir. I’m flattered.” 

Evan once again took Jon’s elbow, gesturing to the chair Tyler had previously been sitting in. The previous occupant instead made his way to the balcony, resting his palms on the rails as he faced away from the group. 

This was all very strange to Jonathan; he hadn’t felt this bewildered since he’d arrived at the temple. He went from being treated as a student to a king in a matter of mere seconds, and he could honestly say it was another burden on his shoulders. He had thought the weight of his responsibility had sunk in months ago, and now, he had found yet another way to surprise himself. 

“Your Highness,” Lord Abbott spoke, crossing one leg over the other. Jonathan wasn’t sure why, but he felt a great heaviness in his chest any time one of his superiors spoke; he couldn’t assume what they would say next- it may be advice, an inquiry, or maybe even an insult. He wouldn’t be surprised if they insulted him, at that point. “If I may inform you of our future battle plan, I would be honored.”

Jonathan nodded, not quite sure as what to say. Still, the Lord took out his wand and muttered a spell, magenta sparks of magic finding their way into the air to take shape as they had during the meeting earlier that day. 

“Our strategy is to get you as close to the Horseman as possible as soon as able. To put the rest simply, we will have the Airborne Regiment act as early bombers, led by Master Fong,” The man gestured to Evan, whos eyes hadn’t left the floor since the beginning of their conversation. Jonathan swallowed in his throat, then biting his lip. “Three footsoldier divisions on ground led by Masters Abbott, Thompson and Cunningham, and a protection squadron assembled of few soldiers led by Lord Nagle to get you safely into the castle.”

“I- I’m sorry, who’s Lord Nagle?” Right as his question left his lips, footsteps beyond the doorways grew closer and closer- right until they entered the scene.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Jonathan looked towards the doorway, seeing a familiar face as he charged in and bowed before the table. He had been his tailor months ago; he had gone from fashion of centuries past to an armada of flowing fabrics, each littered with sparkling evergreen and glistening gold. His bellowing, decorated in ancient embroidered designs, had layer upon layer of draping cloth of the same design reaching the floor in an elegant waterfall. The collar was rather dramatic, nearly reaching his cheekbones. In short, he looked even more flamboyant than the last he’d seen him. “I had to sort out some troubles in Europe before I could arrive. Terribly tragic I had to miss the meeting.”

Jonathan stood, eyes wide. “You’re the one that tailored my suit for me, aren’t you?” The man didn’t reply, only smiling slightly as he stood straight with a hand at the sword on his belt. Evan stood, as well, gesturing to Lord Nagle. He then realized he’d never gotten the tailor’s name when they’d first met.

“Lord Nagle has one of the highest positions in his rank. He had also been the first to volunteer to lead the protection squadron, if it makes any difference.” Evan had his hand on Jonathan’s back, not quite close enough to rest on the small of it but low enough for his cheeks to flush slightly. He muttered a spell beneath his breath to secrete it.

“I’m flattered,” Jonathan responded, his eyes still distracted by the prepossessing embroidments upon the other’s jacket. Of course, Jonathan had an array of sparkling designs on the underside of his cape, but it didn’t even near the amount the Lord Nagle had designed for himself. He would have to visit him again for a new suit- when they had time, that was. Or, perhaps, ‘if’. He couldn’t be sure.

He then wondered whether or not Lord Nagle had yet visited his husband and child. 

~#~

“You’re tense.” Hands snaked around Ryan’s waist, and he melted into the familiar touch. He’d come to depend on it, to relish in it. He knew, however, this may as well be the last time he would feel it. He wasn’t ready to admit that out loud, however. “Everything will work out as planned. Umbris has planned it all out for us.”

“But at what cost?” Ryan turned around to face Luke, the man standing a few inches above him. The other’s hands then opted to rest upon his hips. “I have tried to read the cards. I get nothing but befuddling replies…”

Luke stepped closer, embracing the Prime Magician. If any other Lord were to walk in, they would think nothing but disgust of him for engaging in romantic acts with a magician of lower status. He worried not of himself, however, but of his lover; he may find himself in exile after the war ends.

Albeit seeing the consequences clearly, he let his worrisome thoughts melt away as he rested his head upon Luke’s chest. He let go of the breath he’d been holding. “I know what I have to do, but- but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.”

Luke didn’t reply. No words had to be spoken to know of their fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this chapter took me two months to finish, im sorry, i just got rEAL busy and im gonna try to wrap up this story as soon as possible!!! the last chapters may be less than my goal of 4k per part, but it'll be worth it, i promise !!! than you for supporting it this long !!!! also, nOGLA MY DUDE


	16. Remember the Time

“Master Aberdeen!” The small boy ran down the halls as fast as his legs could carry him, robes clinging to his skin with his wand waving dangerously in his hand. The woman ahead stopped and turned, smiling when she saw her apprentice. “I’ve finally done it! The ritual worked!”

“Ah- which one?”

“The one that makes my magic move more freely! It worked!” She smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“A merry congratulations to you, Reuben! You are learning very quickly!” He latched onto her arm as they made their way down the hall towards her office, going at a slow yet steady pace as Reuben continued to spout his accomplishments.

“It’s simply amazing, Master Aberdeen! It glows so much brighter when I cast it, and even Ohm likes it! He started hopping around and all-” The doors ahead suddenly burst open as he spoke, and the woman straightened her back as one of the Masters swiftly approached.

“Prime Magician! The doctor requests your presence immediately! A child has been brought to the sanctuary!” He dropped to his knee despite being out of breath, crossing an arm over his chest in respect. Reuben looked up at the woman as her eyebrows furrowed, then carefully peeling the boy’s hand from her arm. 

She looked down to her apprentice, half of her body facing the door. “Reuben, see to it that you return to your chambers immediately. It is getting rather late.”

The child furrowed his brows, his hand clenching tight around the wand at his side. As he shifted his weight to his other foot, he felt small hairs brush up against his ankle, and immediately knew it to be Ohm. “But- But Master Aberdeen, you said I must begin to involve myself in important affairs if I am to be Prime Magician-”

“I understand that, Reuben, now return to your chambers.” She left the boy with no option as she turned on her heel and fled from the room with the herald, leaving himself and his affiliate standing dumbfounded in the corridor. He didn’t move until Ohm began to nip at his ankle.

Later that night, after he’d changed into his slumber robes, he took a daring risk and slipped from within his chambers towards the infirmary. At least, that was where he’d assumed the Prime Magician would be; he hadn’t heard her return to her own chamber, and the herald had said she would be with the doctor, so one would only assume.

When Ohm pestered him to stay- grabbing his robes by the teeth and hopping about- he only picked his affiliate from the floor and snuck silently out of his room, using his wand to put out any torches that had been left burning as he made his way to the infirmary. His heart began to pond in his chest as his mind swarmed with questions.

When he reached his destination, he found that the door had not been completely slid closed, and voices travelled softly through the thin walls. He leaned in close, trying to find an angle as he peaked in. 

He saw the back of his Prime Magician, the first layer of her robing cast aside in her irate state. Whatever the topic she and the doctor discussed was shielded by her body, and he wished desperately for her to move so he could just sneak a glance.

When he noticed the presence by his side, his heart flipped in his chest, though he was cautious to keep his voice low. His friend Linus now looked through the slip in the door, his gaze showing little emotion while Marius stood with crossed arms and back against the wall. It went unsaid that they had figured out his plan, and were now more than willing to join in. So, he went back to the slip in the door as stealthily as possible and peaked in with his head beneath Linus’ as if he knew they’d been there all along.

“He is of colonial descent- from the America’s,” The doctor explained to the Prime Magician. “Our ambassador in the west plucked him upon further investigation. It would have been dangerous to have left him there, especially now that those colonists have gone and declared war.”

“And why did they not take him to the temple in Europe?” She replied. “That would have been the much wiser option.”

“Well- Madame, I am sure you can already sense it. This child has a great deal of power for his young age. Our ambassador assumed you could give the proper diagnostic, as you were born with a similar condition.” The woman remained quiet, her body shifting slightly; he could now see a small glimpse of the draping covers engulfing the supposed child in the Prime Magician’s arms.

Reuben wasn’t sure what to think. So, for the next year, he didn’t think much of it, at all.

He saw the child again four years later, on Reuben’s ninth birthday. The Prime Magician decided it was high time he met her _other_ apprentice. Reuben, having not even considered that the child was still around, felt conflicted; now that she had another apprentice, she wouldn’t spend as much time with him. Before he knew it, her new apprentice would be the Prime Magician- not him.

His name was Bazel. Reuben absolutely hated him.

That was, until they met again ten years later. 

Reuben wasn’t sure how they had avoided each other for so long; he guessed he just worked so hard to become a great magician that he didn’t have time to go searching, and that Bazel was so isolated from the rest of the residents of the temple. By that time, Reuben had forgotten he’d even existed, and could barely remember who he was when he’d returned to the temple once more.

Linus had told him that Bazel had gotten a separate mentor years prior, back when Bazel had learned to control the dangerous amounts of power he’d been gifted with at birth. He had only returned due to a crisis his new mentor had to discuss with the Prime Magician, and it had only meant to be a visit, but by the time the crisis had been resolved, an arrangement had been made that he would take permanent residence again.

Reuben had seen him around the temple, though they never actually spoke to one another until they were practically forced to. It was his turn to scout again, and this time, the Prime Magician assigned Bazel to his side to teach him the basics and let him loose after a few trips. By this time, Reuben could barely even remember why he’d ever been upset with the younger all those years ago, but still somewhat felt it when they were finally introduced properly.

“Make sure you keep your wand in hand at all times, young Bazel,” The Prime Magician stood with her hands clasped, a light smile adorning her aging face. As old as she was becoming (she was honestly only in her mid-fifties, but stress was taking its toll), she was still as enchanting and fair as she had been when he was but a child. “And do not stray from Sir Reuben. If, by any chance, you find trouble on this mission, you leave responsibility to him.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Bazel responded, smiling. Though he was only thirteen or so, he was nearly as tall as the Prime Magician, and she being rather tall for her slim stature herself. Reuben was sure he would be dwarfed within the coming years- if the younger decided to stay, that was. 

Reuben opened a portal as the Prime Magician hurried Bazel with reminders. Either she was worried he would mess something up, or Bazel wasn’t as pure as he seemed. Even still, he had not yet found very much to admire in the younger, and knew he wouldn’t put in much effort to seek such information in the first place.

The Prime let them be, giving quick goodbyes and taking her leave. Bazel then spoke just as Reuben had been about to enter the portal. “Where are we going?” He asked, taking ahold of the elder’s robes. He turned to face him, then promptly marched forward. 

“New York.” They stepped through, Bazel now much more vibrant as they entered the alleyway. The boy grinned from ear to ear, focusing on nothing in particular as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “What has you so worked up?”

“I’ve been here many times before!” Bazel took his wand, casting an invisibility spell and grabbing Reuben by the wrist to pull him along, though not a grip so tight as to hurt him. There was such a tenderness within it, and he found himself wondering how someone with supposed mountainous amounts of magic could have such astonishing restraint, even in simple gestures. The Prime Magician, who had been born with a similar case, was reluctant to conduct physical contact- especially with her apprentice- as her magic often had effects on her physical form. He now realized Bazel was much more impressive than he let on, being able to tame that raw power. He then wondered why he was so worked up about the thought alone.

Ideas spread like the plague.

~#~

“Reuben,” Bazel suddenly spoke, lying on his side as the other continued to gaze up lazily at the sky. He hummed in reply. “When do you think the Chosen One will appear?” He let out a sigh he’d been holding, considering as Bazel continued. “Do you think he’s currently with us, or perhaps he’s already passed?”

“I wouldn’t assume the latter. If Umbris had intended there to be a Chosen One, he wouldn’t have gone by so blindly to our eye. There will be crisis, and he will make himself known.” When Bazel didn’t lay down upon the grass, Reuben turned his head to face him.

Bazel was now nineteen, Reuben being twenty-four, and they had grown somewhat oddly close within their time together. Linus said they had been destined by the gods to meet, though that was probably just Linus being sarcastic (as always). The man he had once seen as an enemy he now saw as a best friend, and sometimes at night- in his dreams- he would see him as surprisingly much more. It confused him, though he wasn’t too bothered by it- at least, until Bazel stared at him like he currently had been doing.

“What’s on your mind?” Bazel asked him, tapping hsi thin fingers about the grass between them as he searched the other’s eyes for answers. “You seem awfully preoccupied with something.”

He didn’t want to tell the truth, though he saw no good in lying, either, so he simply answered- “Just a dream, is all.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot, lately. Maybe you should talk to the Prime Magician about it?” Reuben could only smile with a fearful feeling creeping upon his mind. He took the hands resting behind his head and lay them on his chest, weaving his fingers together. 

“Don’t trouble your mind for me, Bazel. I’ll be quite alright.”

~#~

It was clear to him, now, that he could never be as strong as Bazel. Umbris had decided just that from the moment Reuben had been born. And, although he would rather not admit it, he knew the Prime Magician saw the same.

It wasn’t a matter of skill, per say. Even if they were a mere half-decade apart in age, Reuben knew twice as many spells and rituals as Bazel, and his knowledge on medicines and the sciences went far beyond the other’s (he had Linus to thank for that). No, Bazel’s true power lied only in his strength, and the vast, infinite amount of energy stored within him.

It seemed Bazel never grew tired. He could cast spell after spell and still feel not the slightest bit weary, and although he hadn’t yet completely mastered controlling the ocean of energy he stored, he was exceptionally skilled at expelling it, releasing it in powerful waves all at once.

He’d first felt Bazel’s energy out on those rolling hills they visited so often to gaze upon the sky; the sun had been setting when they’d appeared again, and upon arrival- they noticed something grim- the life around them was beginning to fade.

“I’ve heard about this in a book, though I’m not sure whether or not it’s true,” Reuben looked to the horizon, and Bazel approached slowly from behind as the tall grasses bellowed about at their waists. “I know there is a burial ground near here, one placed by the natives. Spirits not yet passed- those who passed in vain- they soil the nature around them.”

“It’s hard to believe their anger could carry out in death…” Bazel now stood beside him, looking down at an open palm. Reuben tilted his head. “Perhaps...if I can appease them, they can rest easier.”

“I’m not even sure the stories are true, though. Are you sure that- whatever you’ll do- it won’t anger them further?”

“Well, I’ve never been sure about anything, but I don’t want this place to be ruined because of an angry spirit,” Reuben smiled. “I think it’s worth trying.”

Plagued with curiosity, Reuben stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back as Bazel unsheathed his wand. The younger seemed to take a second to consider before putting it away. Reuben decided to remain silent as the other then ventured to the highest point of the hill.

Bazel took one last look around before extending his arms outward, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. Reuben took a step forward out of curiosity. The other man began to chant a single spell beneath his breath, and soon, the golden energy stored within him began to seep from his downward palms. 

Soon, it spilled like trickling waterfalls, and spread about the lands as it reached the ground. As it began to pool closer to Reuben’s feet, he could already feel the power radiating from the other’s energy. It was warm, and felt like sunshine tickling his shaking nerves. He smiled to himself and embraced the feeling as the energy itself almost seemed to embrace _him_.

When it finally touched him, he couldn’t describe the immense serenity that invaded his senses, overcrowded them oh so pleasantly. 

Looking about, he could see color quickly seeping back into the nature around them in the last rays of the sun beyond. By the time the energy had disappeared and Bazel once again opened his eyes, the silence that had once plagued the rolling hills had been slaughtered, and life once again began to buzz about them.

It was that very night Reuben had fallen in love with the very same man he’d once seen as an enemy.

~#~

“Reuben, may I...can I tell you something?” They lay in bed three years later, the elder propped up with a book in his lap as the other lay beside him, their hands intertwined between their bodies. He hummed in reply, his eyes never leaving the pages. “I think I may be the Chosen One.”

The man froze, his grip on the other’s hand suddenly becoming tighter. He looked to the other lipping his chapped lips. Bazel only looked back at him, his eyes holding such grim seriousness. There was no space for laughter left in those eyes, he knew. “Bazel…”

“I’m the most powerful magician in the world when it comes to my energy, and I’ve nearly mastered it. Besides, there’s trouble brewing in Europe, like the prophecy said-”

“The prophecy spoke of crisis among magicians, not among men…” Reuben closed his book and tried to reach over with his other hand. Bazel shied away, releasing the other’s hand as he sat up. Reuben wasn’t sure what to do. The younger had never acted so...oddly. He couldn’t describe it any other way. “Bazel, let’s just take a moment to consider things thoroughly, here-”

“I’ve asked you to do the same.” Reuben was taken aback at the man’s sharp tongue, his eyes narrowing as Bazel turned his head to face him. “This world has waited long enough for the Chosen One. I’ve come to realize that he’s been here all this time.”

When Reuben lay silent, Bazel grew seemingly more irritated. “Say something, Reuben...I don’t want us to fight over this.”

“What-” Reuben began, but his throat was once again caught. He started again. “When...when did you start having these...assumptions? Why now?”

“Have you truly been so blind?” Bazel’s voice began to break as he slid his legs over the side of the bed. Reuben had considered sliding closer, but stopped himself. “I have been thinking this over for years, and you never even noticed.”

“Bazel, I beg you to reconsider. If- if you had been born the Chosen One, Umbris would have made that clear. We all have skills- some of us have special quirks with them- but none of us are the Chosen One.” Reuben made to slide closer, though paused when Bazel’s hands dug into the bedsheets by his side. He licked his chapped lips and held his breath. Angering Bazel was never a wise choice. “Come back to bed, Bazel…”

Bazel didn’t respond. He stood, left the room, and hadn’t returned when Reuben awoke the next morning. What he found instead, shaped history as they knew it. 

“Master Aberdeen!” Reuben forced his way through the crowd of magicians surrounding the woman, falling to her side. Linus sat not too far away, hastily tossing together whatever he could find to perhaps slow the bleeding, albeit Reuben was sure they all knew nothing could be done. “Master Aberdeen-”

He lifted her head as his eyes clouded with his tears, placing a hand on the bloodied hand atop her chest. She was not yet dead, though would be in a few moments time. He knew that for sure- Linus knew that- everyone around them knew that- yet all the magicians scattered around them wept and prayed to Umbris to alter the fate she had been given.

“My son,” She slowly began, her eyes hooded and voice low. His throat wretched out a sob, and he watched as tears slowly began to roll down her face. “I pass my torch to- to you...bear it well…”

“Master…” He wept, shaking his head. She could only smile for him, though there was not a thing left to reassure him. “Don’t leave me alone...I-I’ve lost so much already- Bazel-”

“He entered my chamber late in the night,” She informed. Reuben’s stomach began to churn. “He took- he took the Eye-”

“Lylon?” He finished, shuttering in disbelief. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“You must do- do whatever it takes to-” She began to cough, blood gathering about the corners of her lips. He held her tighter and looked to Linus, who in turn scrambled to work faster. The magicians around them only prayed as the children wept louder than sirens. “He will kill us all...if we do not kill him.”

“What must I do, Master?” He pleaded, and for a brief moment, he was sure she had passed, until she spoke once again. “What _can_ I do? He is far too powerful!”

“Patience is a glorious burden we must all bear,” She concluded. “Bear yours until the true One finds himself. Only then-” She coughed again. The blood began to trickle down her chin as it splattered about her already stained robes. He wept louder. “Only then...may we rest again with God.”

~#~

Immortality was a peculiar thing. Reuben knew this before he had ever opened the Book of Grevaligne- which was why Linus and Marius had insisted to stay by his side through the ages.

It was not until a century later did they truly begin to understand the consequence of age, however. The year was now 1900- the dawn of a new century once more- and Reuben took note of how much had changed. Though they had remained at the temple, the way of the magicians around them had drastically changed, yet they remained set in stone.

They hadn’t been involved in any mortal affairs for over half a century due to outdated names that would surely cause suspicion. Linus had mentioned this one time or a few, though Reuben had never really considered it until then. 

He had spent so long feeling empty. So, he took his chance and made himself whole once more.

Ryan Theodoric, he decided, was as good a name as any; Lucas Patterson and Marcus Johnson seemed to agree. Years later, a spy delivered word that Bazel was gone, and Bryce Mcquaid had taken his place.

Ideas spread like the plague.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this tore me. i didn't even write the full 4k words and im still crying. there are a lot of emotions in this chapter that go unmentioned, but i hope you could at least get a feel for it (it's supposed to feel a little fast-paced at times). essentially, ryan (reuben) used to love bryce (bazel) until he went mad with jealousy and impatience. two centuries later, you finally have the chosen one! yay!
> 
> thank you all so much for commenting! im gonna try and get another chapter up as soon as possible since this is barely even a chapter, but itll still take a bit. the story is almost done, though, so that's a good thing (i think)! i cannot tell you all how much i go back and look at comments; they really do help me push through each chapter!


	17. The Last Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: mention of suicide. proceed with caution.

“How long until you reach the castle?”

“Sixteen hours.” Evan leaned forward, his elbows resting upon his legs as he stared down at the untouched tea. His mother sat next to him on the couch, a hand rubbing comforting circles into his back. He hadn’t realized how deprived of physical contact he’d been until he’d arrived; he and Jonathan hadn’t had much time to share a bed.

“What role have you been assigned?”

“Leader of the Airborne Regiment.” He reached out and took his drink, sitting up straight as he sipped. He set it back down gently onto its small plate. “He remembered.”

“Well, of course the Prime Magician remembered. Your father was one of the best riders in his temple. Vanoss makes a good steed when he really feels up to it.” He smiled to himself, glancing over to the picture frame on the wall. It’d been taken when his father and mother were in their more youthful days- one of the only pictures they had left of him. “From the letters he’s sent, I would say you aren’t too bad a pilot, yourself.”

“The Prime Magician sends you letters?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“It’s just- kinda weird, I guess?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right...he likes to send his rabbit through a portal. You’d be surprised how strong that little guy is in the face of a hungry fox.”Evan chuckled, a strange warmth blossoming in his chest. He and his mother hadn’t shared a conversation as light as this in a while- and almost twenty-four hours before a battle, as well.

He took the pocket watch from his jacket and swore to himself, standing to his feet in a second. He placed his hat back on his head as he kissed his mother’s cheek. “I’ve gotta go. Gotta catch Jon- he’s probably in bed, already.”

“Don’t get too crazy with him.” She smirked to herself as he drank her tea, and Evan flushed. 

“I-It’s not like that-”

“Bet. Now go.” He gave her one last smile, and she returned it wholeheartedly (at least, he thought it was genuine). He had turned around when she stopped him, kicking his ankle slightly to grab his attention. “Oh, and Evan?”

“Yes, mom?”

“Don’t die, for me- and for the Chosen One, too.”

~#~

Jon didn’t want to die.

He lay there in bed the night before, Evan yet to return from a last-minute meeting with the Lords, restless. His limbs ached with a sense of laziness, like he hadn’t been using them enough as of late. He tried stretching, but still couldn’t shake away the need. He only wished to have one final peaceful sleep.

He’d started to drift when his door slid open. Assuming it was Evan, he merely hummed to signal his consciousness to the other and flipped onto his side. After a moment of still silence, he turned his head to the doorway, only to find the Prime Magician standing there expectantly. He sat up almost immediately, and Rocket chirped grumpily from her pillow.

“I hate to intrude, Your Highness.” He spoke quietly. Jonathan now noticed the bag he carried by his side. In his right hand, he clenched the staff Jonathan hadn’t seen in months. “I have come to speak with you one last time before we head off.”

“That’s perfectly alright, sir, just let me-” He stood hastily from the bed and threw on the robes he’d tossed carelessly on a chair. He gestured to the chair opposite to it, and the Prime Magician sat himself. The bag in his hand was set gently on the table between the two. Jonathan found himself across from the man, nervously grasping his own hands in his lap. “What did you need?”

The Prime Magician wordlessly gestured to the bag, and Jonathan hesitated before reaching for it. When he opened it, his heartbeat seemed to halt for a brief moment before beginning to pound in relentless anxiousness.

Before him lay the remaining sacred items. 

“I knew you weren’t going to catch much sleep tonight, so I thought you may as well knock one task out of the way while you’re at it.” He reached his hand in slowly, his fingers slowly wrapping around the Rod of Zephalus. The last time he’d touched it, he’d spoken to Evan’s father. He’d never told Evan about that, now that he thought about it. “I was very... _anxious_ to give you these. I had considered handing them over before…”

“Wouldn’t that have been the right choice?” Jonathan blurted beneath his breath. His head shot up when he realized what he’d done. “Oh- shit! No offense, sir!”

The Prime Magician smiled solemnly and shook his head. “No, you’re quite right. It was my own doing that left you unprepared still. They are rightfully yours, so you may have them, and this-” The man presented the staff previously by his side, though not yet handing it over.

“The Star of Umbris.” Upon hearing its name, the Star glimmered slightly in its casing at the top of the staff. Jonathan straightened his back. “What exactly does it do?”

“It allows you to speak to God- among other things. Though, you should probably learn how to read tarot cards or tea leaves. She cannot speak to you directly.” The Prime Magician took one last glance at it before resting it softly on the table, and nodded as permission for Jonathan to take it into his own hands. “I have bore that Star for many years. I only hope you wield it well.”

“Well, it’ll only be for a little while-” Jonathan looked up at the man for reassurance. “-right?”

“Jonathan…” The man told him, his slumping in his chair. He used his magic to conjure the steaming teapot and adorning cups from his study, pouring it for himself as he rubbed his eyes. He didn’t speak again until he’d received his glass. “I have lived far too long.”

At first, Jonathan wasn’t sure how to respond. His statement could have meant many things, and yet, he knew only one conclusion was true. Once again, it fell from his lips before he could catch it. “You’re- you’re gonna... _kill yourself_?”

The Prime Magician conjured a flask and let a small stream pour into his tea before whisking that away, as well. He swallowed it hastily with shaking hands and eyes gathering tears. “I live only to watch the Horseman die. When all is said and done, I see it right I die by his side.”

Suddenly but slowly, the door slid open again, and Evan rushed in before shutting it behind him. Jonathan, his voice caught in his throat, was rendered actionless. As Evan slowly approached, tears began to slowly slide down Jonathan’s face. He clutched the staff close to his chest, Evan finding his way to his side to kneel and place a reassuring hand on Jonathan’s back. He looked to Evan for answers, only to find the man had none. 

“When I am gone, Evan will be the next Prime Magician. If you truly wish, you may return home to your city, or you may stay here- if that is what your heart desires.” As he preached those well-strung words he always uttered, his position looked utterly defeated- slumped, legs spread and tosselled clothes as he sipped his alcohol-ridden tea. “I have already spoken to Luke and Mark. They will stay for a while longer when I am gone.”

Jonathan hastily wiped the tears from his eyes. He really needed to stop crying if he wanted to prove himself as the true Chosen One. “You can’t just come into my room the night before the war and tell me of my fate…” He swallowed in his throat. Evan began rubbing circles in his back. Though not completely effective, he found Evan’s touch was one of the only soothing things he had left. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

The Prime Magician set his tea upon the table and stood, slowly making his way over until he was crouched to Jonathan’s left, opposite to Evan. He took the apprentice’s face in his hands, shaking his head as he wiped away the man’s tears with his thumb. Evan pressed his forehead into Jonathan’s arm as the other only continued to weep. 

“You have been plagued by tales of death for so long,” Ryan spoke in a hushed tone, smiling sadly. “You have seen her face and stared her in the eye. You have feared her, shied away from her call. Now, she beckons me; I have evaded her embrace for far too long.”

“I don’t want you to go!” Jonathan weeped. “Not- not yet!” He felt Evan hold him tighter, and his hands clenched around the staff in his hands. “I-I’m not ready-” He hiccuped. “Please, I’m not ready…”

“No one is ever ready when death knocks at your door. However, it is up to you to decide whether or not to let her in. For me, she has been standing out in the cold for far too long,” A tear finally fell from Ryan’s eye. “But for you, she is not quite ready- I can sense it.” 

~#~

“Hey, Tyler?” The man hummed in response, sending vibrations through his chest. Craig snuggled closer into his side. “Do you think zebras know something we don’t?”

“We fight the greatest battle of our lives in sixteen hours and this is what you think about?”

“Just trying to distract myself.” Tyler scoffed yet chuckled, his arms wrapping tighter around the other. Craig sighed, closing his eyes.

“Craig,” Tyler spoke after a few moments of silence. He hummed in reply, mimicking the other. “If I don’t make it back, I want you to bond with my affiliates.” Craig sat up suddenly, and Tyler looked to him with a solemn expression. “They’re practically yours, already. I’m sure they would be willing.”

“Don’t say things like that, Tyler,” He replied, flopping into the spot next to Tyler. The larger man turned on his side to face him. “You- you already know I’m not suitable for an affiliate, let alone three. I don’t wanna go through that again.” 

“I’m not saying you’ll have to at all, I just...I wanted to let you know in case things go south, tomorrow.” Craig frowned, turning on his side to face the other. Perhaps it was best if he focused on the matter at hand, he decided. “I truly do love you, Craig. Remember that.”

He smiled, though it was laced in melancholy. The thought of losing Tyler wasn’t just sickening- no, it was terrifying. He’d relied on his lover to keep him healthy for so long; he wasn’t sure what he would have done after Sparky if Tyler hadn’t been there to guide him. And to be left with nothing but the other’s affiliates? 

“I love you, too.” Tyler planted a kiss on his forehead before laying on his back once more, beckoning the other. He was happy to oblige. 

~#~

They stood in silence as they watched the sun fall behind the trees, Evan holding a reassuring grip on his shoulder. Within the trees behind them were the first of the air fleet, Evan not yet ready to join them. For this, Jonathan was thankful- he wasn’t quite ready to depart with his friend, either.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything to wake you up?” Evan said to him, and Jonathan turned to face the man. “You only slept for two hours.”

“I’ve never felt more alive, I guess.” They shared a fond smile. Jonathan felt Rocket brush against his leg. He knew he would have to do everything in his power to protect her; though she may not face an onslaught from another affiliate, he would have to defend her from the affiliate’s master. “You didn’t get much sleep, either.”

“Well, I didn’t have to memorize the entire Book of Grevaligne in sixteen hours, so that’s another thing.” Jonathan gave a breathy laugh and, for a moment, he forgot that he was about to fight a war. His free hand slid down to the Rod of Zephalus strapped to his belt, biting his lip. He kept it, not so much for himself, but for Evan; it reminded him that the other’s father would be with them- no matter what happened. He had also tried the Pendant of Marmona, which was surprisingly easy, though he guessed that just came with being the Chosen One. “Jonathan, before I go...there’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you- well, two things.”

“Yeah?” His heart began to hammer within his chest, and he could practically hear Evan’s doing the same. Vanoss cooed softly from the other’s shoulder. 

“From what the Prime Magician has told me- the stories he’s raised me on- the Horseman’s power lies mostly in what he had naturally been born with, and not so much skill. You, on the other hand, have immense power in both, along with a few of the most valuable resources at your disposal.” Jonathan nodded, his eyes never ceasing to stray from Evan’s. The other man seemed to do the same.

“And the other thing?” Evan had been about to speak- a soft noise emitting from his throat, before his mouth closed altogether. Jonathan swallowed in his throat. Vanoss fluttered down from Evan’s shoulder to sit upon a log next to Rocket. 

Then, as Evan kissed him, he suddenly realized what he’d truly been missing his whole life.

Though it had probably meant to be short, Jonathan leaned into it, and Evan let out a soft sigh. It was gentle, as if either would break at any moment, and Jonathan relished in it. When Evan finally pulled away, he looked to the other with wide eyes. Within them, Jonathan found an unfamiliar adoration, as well as the sort of shock he’d been expecting. 

Jonathan decided to kiss him, this time, and his hands found their way to Evan’s hips. He could tell that Evan had probably rarely ever kissed anyone (with no women in the temple, he wouldn’t be surprised), and found it in himself to gladly be his first- or one of them, at least. He hoped to Umbris he was Evan’s first, and by the gods, not his last.

They pulled away slowly, albeit Jonathan’s hands never left the other’s sides. Though, he must admit, the staff bearing the Star pressing into Evan’s side must not have been comfortable. 

Evan smiled in a way Jonathan had never seen him, before, one that held such happiness and adoration. He found that he himself bore the same look, and he couldn’t wipe it from his face. Evan then said, “I can’t believe I hadn’t done that before.”

“Well, you never really believe it until you’ve done it.” Evan laughed as Jonathan had done earlier, his own gloved hands coming to rest at Jonathan’s shoulders, seeming somehow different than it ever had before. While every other touch they’d ever shared had been out of comfort, these touches meant much more- much more so in a way he couldn’t define with words.

In the simplest term in which Jonathan could define his emotions, what he was experiencing- and hadn’t quite realized that he had been experiencing for quite some time- was love.

“Promise me you’ll make it back,” Jonathan pleaded softly, his face inches away from Evan’s. The other man smiled. 

“I promise you, we’ll make it through this war together.” Jonathan kissed him again, just because he knew he could, and found himself overridden with a melancholic feeling. “I’ll come back to you.”

“If y’all are done-” Jonathan’s head whipped to the trees where Tyler leaned on a thick trunk, his three affiliates resting by his feet. Craig and Marcel stood not too far away. “It’s about time to move out.” 

Jonathan said nothing, only turning back to Evan as his grip on the other grew unconsciously tighter. Evan did the same, planting one last kiss on the other’s lips before managing to peel himself away. He beckoned his owl and conjured his hat out of nothing, sliding it back onto his head for Vanoss to perch. He suddenly remembered back to that alleyway where Evan had saved his skin. He wondered what would have happened if it had been some other magician that had rescued him- or if no one had come along at all? 

“I’ll come back,” Evan repeated, giving one last smile. Jonathan found himself smiling as well, though it was drenched in a bittersweet sorrow. He could only nod in reply. “Wait for me.”

He tapped at the bird upon his hat, and Vanoss flew towards an open patch of the forest, settling himself upon yet another log. He pulled out his wand and aimed it towards the owl. “Speciem magnificum!”

Vanoss erupted into a great flame as he had during their encounter in the alley, soaring upwards above his log and growing to an immense size- perhaps the size of a small, one-manned plane- and the flames soon disappeared as he landed upon the log once more. Jonathan stared in awe as the owl now became the phoenix. 

Evan mustered up a saddle upon Vanoss’ back, and the bird only stirred slightly as he climbed upon it. Jonathan watched him from the ground, lifting Rocket into his own arms as Evan situated himself. To Jonathan, he looked like some sort of gallant knight. Still, even with Evan’s promise, there was no telling whether he- or either of them, for that matter- would return.

“I have faith in you, Jonathan,” Evan declared, sliding his hat from his head and letting it vanish once more into oblivion. “You will lead us to victory.” 

Evan turned his head back to the trees, raising an arm in signal. “Third flank, onward!” Somewhere among the forest far behind, a great rustling of trees came about, and with the last light from the sky, great winged beasts shot by overhead. He turned to Evan, only to find the man hadn’t intended on leaving his gaze. “Second flank, onward!”

Jonathan took desperate steps forward, his hand wrapping tight around the staff in his keeping. As Rocket chirped, he lifted her into his arm, swallowing whatever began to rise in his throat.

If he never were to see Evan again, this may as well have been the best way to watch him leave. A prominent knight upon his steed, leading his soldiers toward victory with no set assurance for himself. If it weren’t such a dire time, he would have cracked a joke to the man before he went. But, as their eyes met for the last time, there was no humor- only wanting.

“Wait for me,” Evan declared, situating himself firmly upon the saddle and keeping a tight grip on the reins. “First flank- onward!”

Jonathan nearly choked as he watched Vanoss shoot into the sky, practically screeching as he went. Before him, the trees shook so violently as an earthquake as the remaining force lifted off the ground. And, when they had calmed, it seemed as if the entire world seemed to slow, right until nothing moved at all. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and although he jumped slightly in his shoes, he made no effort to remove it. “If you’re ready-” Lord Nagle, he knew. “-we should begin to advance. We’ll trail behind Master Abbott’s flank.” He nodded, wiping his eye with the back of his hand before following the man back into the trees.

For a while, the world remained still, until he finally heard the bombs in the distance. Although Marcel and Craig had already advanced with their flanks, Tyler’s cue had resided in the beginning of the battle. Although he was sure they had waited there for at least an hour, he didn’t feel prepared- not in the slightest.

As they advanced- and rather quickly, he might add- his mind began to play the last year or so like a movie. For an entire year, he had trained for this very night. He had agreed to it, not because he had wanted to, but because they needed a messiah, and believed it to be him. If Jonathan were any more selfish, he would have believed them. 

Jonathan knew he wasn’t what the prophecy had called for. He was no ‘Knight of God’; Jonathan was just some broken, penniless orphan looking for a place to call home. He had found it, and in the oddest of places. A temple, lost and hidden within the great mountains of Asia, filled with beings he’d only ever seen in movies. To find that he was born to be among them, in itself, had been an accomplishment to Jonathan. 

He thought of the Prime Magician, and how he had seen straight through his soul when he’d first arrived; his funny hat and his parlor tricks had seemed like the most magical thing in the universe. Now, compared to what he was about to dive headfirst into, it was more like child’s play- charming, nonetheless. If he could go back and relive it, he would, even with all of the horrid memories their first encounter had brought upon him. To think, he would probably never see Ryan, again. It was all so bittersweet. 

He thought of Tyler, Craig and Marcel, and how they’d all somehow bonded that morning at breakfast. Even to this day, he was still intrigued with Tyler’s affiliates, and knew he still had much to learn about his own- even after his training had officially ended. He thought of Marcel, who had pushed him to his limit in physical combat because, Jonathan knew, being disarmed was one thing- but being disarmed with no other form of defense was another. He then thought of Craig and how extraordinary his ability was, and had never felt more grateful that he’d been willing to share his knowledge. Though Jonathan still wasn’t the best at object manipulation, anything was better than nothing, and was more than most magicians could accomplish. 

And Evan. Oh, how foolish they’d both been- Jonathan, especially. How was he to know what love felt like? They’d had months prior to at least say something to one another, and yet they’d get a firm grip on their tongues, instead showing affection through action. Every time Evan had held Jonathan’s cheek, it had been out of pure affection, he now knew. Evan had been silently screaming for attention all this time, and he’d never opened his eyes to see it.

_Those who cannot see have already been blinded by their own eyes. I trust you will keep yours open._

Never before had he truly considered the meaning behind Ryan’s words. To him, he’d already failed; he’d failed time and time again to meet the Prime Magician’s one wish to him. He had closed his eyes to the truth so many times, and it had come with a costly price, not only to his own mind and body, but to those of everyone else’s. 

Now, he vowed, he allowed himself to see what lie before him.

The castle they had now reached seemed to touch the stars with how high it stretched. Around it, chaos ensued, both in the skies and on the ground. He searched desperately above for Evan, only to find no trace. His heart sank, though his feet continued to move along the ground. 

They were met with an onslaught, and he made sure Rocket was closeby before allowing himself to be smothered by multiple magicians trying to get him as close to the castle as possible. He decided to lift her once again, keeping the star and his wand nearby. 

When the figure upon the tower caught his eye, the world stopped turning, and his ears began to ring. Far above, on a great steed of night, sat a dark knight with hair like burning embers. Though, overall, his features weren’t threatening in the least, he found himself shivering. 

The Horseman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's almost over, y'all! the battle has officially begun! evan's mama is a fine lady, vanoss is a tANK, everyone's crying, and they did it !!!!!!! the smooches !!!!!!!!!! yay !!!!!!!! also some minicat (and a lil bit of angst as well). hang in there, everyone! and thank you all so much for your comments! i appreciate each and every one!!!!!


	18. Africa

Jonathan knew war was brutal, but not like this.

When he and Evan had been in Rome, surrounded from all sides by the Horseman’s men and had been forced to fight their way out, he hadn’t truly seen what had happened; he heard the screams and warcries, he saw the blood, yet he hadn’t been in the right mindset to fully comprehend it. Now, he was wide awake, and death had finally met him at his doorstep.

He felt useless as he was dragged along, Rocket held tight in his arms, as Lord Nagle kept a steady hand on his back. He was surrounded on all sides, yet the men protecting him just seemed to keep falling; still, the wall they built stood tall, leaving lost souls behind. 

Onward and onward they trekked, the thunderous booming of murderous magic deafening his ears. The Horseman, still atop his tower, hadn’t moved since Jonathan had laid eyes upon him. Could no one else see him, there upon his tower? Was Jonathan simply imagining in his own fear? He wouldn’t be surprised- of all the trauma he had experienced during the last year, it would be no shock that he was finally starting to hallucinate.

He was pushed into a doorway, and his mind had finally caught up to him when Lord Nagle turned Jonathan’s body towards him. “Go,” He declared, turning his head briefly to gaze at his surroundings. Behind him, the group that had been protecting Jonathan continued to fire spells each and every way, affiliates coming and going to and fro. It was hard to meet the Lord’s eye. “This is where we leave you! Find the Horseman, and fulfill the prophecy!”

“You’re- you’re leaving me?” He huffed, his words so quiet and full of breath he wasn’t even sure the man had heard him over the chaos ensuing behind them. 

“If the prophecy is true,” The man placed his hands on either side of Jon’s head, eyes wide as he pleaded to him,”if you truly are the Chosen One- you need not protection from this point on. Now go,” His hands fell, and Jonathan stepped back. “May Umbris grant you glory.”

He ran. He wasn’t quite sure where- all he knew, was that he was looking for a way to reach that tower. Rocket jumped from his arms and he came to a halt as she sniffed about the air. Jon cocked a brow, waiting until she chirped and sped off on her own. He followed her in haste, drawing his wand and playing spells though his mind as he prepared to face whoever awaited him in the castle.

~#~

It was times like this that gave Evan a million and more reasons not to accept command of the airborne regiment.

He thought he had seen all of the Horseman’s tricks, not to mention those of his followers. Ahead of him, a man, bearing the crest of a leader, rode a great, prehistoric beast. An argentavis, he knew; perhaps the largest bird to ever fly. When he read books of animals of past ages, he had expected the great argentavis to bear at least some feathers of color, but he couldn’t expect anything of the sort from the Horseman. The bird’s feathers were obsidian black, and if it weren’t for the silver harness it wore, Evan wouldn’t have been able to see it. 

It came at him faster than he had first thought it would with its enormous size. He felt Vanoss ruffle his feathers beneath him as they quickly dodged, and he steadied his wand in his hand. The man upon the argentavis bore a large staff rather than a wand, and Evan knew that meant he must be fairly high among the Horseman’s ranks. 

When he and the man made eye contact- even if it had just been a moment- Evan already knew he had met his match. 

~#~

“Craig!” The man cast a final spell before he turned his head, seeing Tyler swiftly approach on the back of one of his enlarged affiliates. Before he could register exactly what was happening, Tyler had him by the scruff, throwing him onto Chief’s back. Tyler, riding Archie, followed Kino as he lead the other two affiliates, plowing any foes that stood in their way. 

“Where are we going?!” He shouted, and Tyler shook his head. 

“I don’t know! Kino just told me to trust him!”

“God dammit, Tyler, we’re in the middle of a war!”

“I know, dammit!” Craig scoffed and drew his sword, opting to take the lesser of two evils and save his energy. He swung at any he could reach, praying to Umbris they didn’t see him first. He noticed that they were heading straight for the castle where he had seen Jonathan enter not too long before and creased his brows in confusion.

“Is he saying anything else?!”

Tyler didn’t respond for a moment, tightening his grip on his wand, and the other hand digging further into Archie’s scruff for support. “He says there’s someone we need to talk to!”

“Well goddamn, can Kino tell the future?!”

“Would you be surprised if he could?!” Craig groaned and prayed again, this time hoping that Tyler’s affiliates weren’t leading them straight to their deaths.

~#~

Jonathan didn’t know where they were going. All he knew was that no one was present to stop them, and that they were slowly descending, despite having seen the Horseman high upon a tower. This once again reminded him that he was probably going insane, and that he needed to keep his head straight until this was all over “over” being in one way or another.

When Rocket finally stopped before a set of dark, descending stairs, he was left out of breath as she snarled downward. He could see a set of doors awaiting him and knew- even without some use of magic- that the Horseman was behind them. He inhaled deeply, twisting his wand in his hand as he took the first step closer. His cloak dragged upon the stairs behind him as he slowly went, his footsteps seeming to echo as he went. Rocket led the way, stopping at the bottom to face him. He could almost hear her fear and bewilderment as she looked up at him with those wide, dark eyes, and felt her emotions echo his own.

He wasn’t surprised when the doors opened on their own, slowly revealing the scene before him; a room the size of a dinner hall built completely of stone, lit by torches hanging from the walls as well as iron chandeliers hanging above. But beyond it all, his eyes could only meet that of the man standing in the center of the room.

He was tall yet utterly thin, almost as if he didn’t eat. He bore an unreadable expression and stood with his hand upon the hilt of the sword at his belt. His boots hiked to his thigh, heeled slightly at the foot, and a leather top was tied loosely above a dark undershirt. At his waist, his belt held not only a sword, but a wand, as well as multiple knives and pockets containing weapons unknown to him. His cloak reached the floor, draped securely about his broad, boney shoulders.

He looked innocent enough to the innocent eye, but to Jonathan, it was death in the flesh.

“I have been awaiting your presence.” Jonathan stopped, and Rocket snarled by his side as the doors behind him closed with an oddly loud bang. Still, he stood unfazed, his jaw clenching. “I suppose you hate being here just as much as I, so I’ll make it quick. Name your poison.”

Jonathan took a moment to consider, then let his hand fall to the hilt at his waist. “Sword.”

“Very well,” The man declared with an irate sigh, unsheathing his weapon. Jonathan did the same. “I very much hoped you’d take me to dinner first.”

“I don’t come here to tease, Horseman,” Jonathan responded, taking a stance after the other. “You slaughtered innocent men and women of the Amazon Temple, and thousands of others among the rest. I’m here to end this war.”

“You truly believe you can defeat me, scum?” Jonathan resisted the urge to bark back. “I’ve been watching you through Lylon’s eyes. While it is true you have come aways, you and I both know you could never hope to kill me-” The man tilted his head, and when Jonathan looked into his eyes, he saw nothing but sickening amusement. “But you could never bring yourself to kill anyone in the first place, now could you?”

“Although many men have fallen due to my power, none yet have been of my hand-” The tip of his sword gleamed beneath the candlelight, pointed straight at the man before him. “And if I may allow you only one liberty in our last moments together, let it be that you are the first among them.”

“Noble words for such a young apprentice.” The man twirled the sword in his hand before settling it once again on Jonathan. “If this is to be my last battle- which, mind you, it won’t be- I wish only to die at the hand of a true warrior.”

Rocket hissed, and Jonathan thought one last time of all who awaited his return beyond the castle walls. He swallowed in his throat. “You have my word.”

~#~

“Ryan-”

“I know, Luke-” Ryan kneeled hastily before the smooth rock, setting the crystal ball and its stand upon it. His chestplate clanked softly upon the armor guarding his arms as he moved, tossing away the stones and twigs around it. “We don’t have any time for this-” He heard the taller man give a drawn out sigh. Ryan turned his head towards him, though only for a brief moment before setting to work. “But we both know- when I have a bad feeling, it’s usually true.”

“You can speak to Umbris, of course you know what’s wrong. Even if you no longer bear her Star, I have no doubt she will still keep your connection.” Ryan hushed him, and Luke sat upon the nearest log as he watched the other work. Somewhere, beyond the thicket of trees, he heard the war rage. Mark had gone on without them not long ago.

When the Prime Magician had finally settled, he placed his hand on either side of the object, gazing into its depths. Luke always became worrisome when Ryan used the ball; his eyes would sometimes nearly roll back if the image he found was too alarming, and sometimes- though he wasn’t quite sure why- the other would begin to shake, hands trembling on the object with such great vigor he wondered how Ryan never snapped out of his daze.

This time, however, after fleeing minutes of utter silence and still had passed, Ryan only stood, though his legs quivered slightly in his armored boots. He pulled out his wand from his belt, aiming towards Ohm. Then, much less to Luke’s surprise, a rabbit became a steed of shining white. Luke furrowed his brows, following quickly.

“What did you see?” When Ryan didn’t reply, instead shakily mounting his horse, Luke reached up to grab him by the collar even before he had sat up properly. “Answer me!”

Ryan let out a shaking breath. “He has the orb with him. He’s going to use it on Jonathan.”

Luke’s brows furrowed, then mounting the horse to sit behind his lover. “What do you mean?”

“He’s stalling- for what, I can’t be sure,” Ryan inhaled deeply at the feeling of the man’s hands at his waist, relishing in it- for perhaps the last time, he knew, he savored the man’s touch. He looked through the trees and gazed at the looming shadow beyond. “But we need to get to that castle before it’s too late.”

~#~

Evan reached back into his quiver, drawing an arrow as he tightened his legs around Vanoss to (hopefully) refrain from falling over. By now, he had gotten used to the height, but he knew one fatal slip could cost a war- and, even with the straps loosely binding him to the saddle by his thighs, there was still much room for error. “Vanoss! Get me close to their general!” The owl beneath him swooped suddenly, and he leaned back as far as he could to keep his balance. 

He spotted his target and, for a brief moment, their eyes met once more. He was devilishly handsome, and no doubt had someone waiting for him to return. Evan saw it in the way he clenched the reigns with one hand and bore his wand in the other, spouting spells like spitfire- a man with no fear of war, but bearing the impatience to fight through it. He was just as human as Evan, yet he felt it would hurt more to kill him than the others he had already slain that evening.

Still, he drew back the arrow, Vanoss flying circles about him to find an angle their foe wouldn’t expect. He let out a distraught breath as the arrow disappeared from his fingers, and felt somewhat relieved when it missed his target and hit another one of the Horseman’s pilots, instead. The general’s argentavis was quicker than he’d first thought, it seemed. He swore to himself, stuffing the bow in a holster upon the saddle. Evan decided it was time to put his magic to good use. 

“Get me a good angle!” He shouted to Vanoss, holding onto the front of the saddle as the owl put itself hastily into position. The general, hovering not too far below, looked up at him as Evan gathered his tongue. He pointed the tip of the wand at his target before the general could comprehend what was happening. 

Evan, much to his own surprise, didn’t hesitate. “Stupefaciunt aeternam!” The target was not the general, but the steed he had mounted himself on. Evan watched as the man finally understood, looking up at him in terror before the argentavis when rigid, and began to fall from the sky, far too quickly for its master to act.

Evan carried on, telling himself it was what needed to be done. He’d taken out one of the Horseman’s most powerful generals- he’d done his job.

~#~

“Kino, you better tell me where the hell you’re taking us!” Tyler gripped the fur of his affiliate as they sped up the winding stairs of the tower, relentless in their pacing. He could see the light of the moon beyond, and knew they were heading to one of the towers, but still couldn’t comprehend why. Craig was not too far behind- some seven steps or so- just as befuddled as he.

It wasn’t long before they breached the surface and, panting, the affiliates immediately began to growl at a man not too far away. Tyler furrowed his brows, his hand quickly reaching for his wand as he dismounted. The man standing not too far away was obviously one of the Horseman’s generals, judging by the dark, dramatic cape and the crest embedded into his silver armor. In his hands he held a bundle of herbs in one and his wand in the other. Around the man was a random assortment of items, and behind him lay what looked to be a chalk-drawn circle.

A ritual- and, if it was for the Horseman, it obviously wasn’t for good reason. 

Tyler pointed his wand at the man and drew his sword with the other. Craig followed swiftly in suit. “Drop what you have!” The man, seeming far too terrified for his prestigious position, quickly obeyed and fell to his knees. “Captis vinculum!” The general’s hands bound behind his back, and Craig rushed forward to snatch his wand and snap it in half. The two halves were thrown off the side of the tower as Tyler approached, his footsteps echoing like thunder. He grabbed the man by the scruff and almost shuddered at how the man shook beneath his grasp. 

“What ritual are you conducting, here?” Tyler looked about the area, spotting rather odd items- some he couldn’t identify. He spotted obsidian, various salts (it seemed like) and a small bucket of rich soil (it couldn’t have been dug up too long ago). He swallowed in his throat. “And why the hell would you need obsidian in a ritual?”

“I-” The man huffed, licking his chapped lips nervously. “I-I can’t tell you-”

“I think you sure as hell can! What ritual are you conducting?!” Tyler shook the man violently in his grip, and he heard Craig step forward. “Tell me!”

“Vo- Vocationem Infinitae Tenebrae!” The general shouted, averting his eyes before he closed them altogether. Tyler paused, his mind spinning. He couldn’t quite process it until he saw Craig cover his mouth out of the corner of his eye. 

“Excuse me?” Tyler huffed, letting go of the man’s collar as he stepped back. 

“The Chosen One, he ordered me to do it!” Tyler swallowed in his throat. Behind him, Craig turned to look elsewhere beyond the stone railings of the tower. “He told me- he told me to wait for his signal…” 

Tyler stepped closer again, grabbing him by the collar though with much more mercy. A man willing to loosen his tongue against the Horseman is deserving of that much, at least. “When does he plan to use the orb?”

“I- I don’t know, he only told me- he told me he would use it when the time was right.” It was obvious this general would rather be anywhere than the Horseman’s stronghold- either that, or he gave them information perhaps to be spared. In any case, Tyler was still ordered to kill any henchmen he came upon- traitor or not. 

Tyler sighed and let the man’s collar slip from his fingers, the general falling back onto his calves. “What’s your name, general?” Craig turned around to face him with a bewildered expression, though made no move to question it.

“Brock,” The man replied, his eyes turning downcast. “General Brock Hanby.” 

“General Hanby?” Craig inquired. “I thought that man’s first name was Brian?”

“It is-” Brock assured him. “He is my...partner, of sorts.” Tyler nodded, licking his chapped lips before a deafening shriek echoed from the sky. He turned his head towards the noise and saw Evan fast approaching.

“Craig, you talk to Evan,” He turned back towards the magician in their captivity, the man swallowing in his throat as he gazed up with visible terror. “I’ll handle this.”

~#~

“You are quite skilled-” The Horseman complimented, though in the worst of times, as Jonathan’s sword was currently being challenged by the one above it, the end of the blade so low beneath the other’s pressure it nearly touched the ground. “-but no amount of skill with a sword could ever prove your worthiness!”

Jonathan managed to slip from beneath the Horseman’s blade, taking a few steps back and standing his ground. The enemy only smirked at him, tossing his blade somewhere towards the entrance, then drawing his wand. Jonathan kept his eye on that blade until his mind caught up with what was currently happening, and chucked his own blade before reaching to his wand. “No matter what skill I bear, it is engraved in stone that I am destined to kill you, one way or another.” 

“Then why don’t you do it?” At first, he thought that the man would simply toss his wand to the side as he’d done with his sword, but much to Jonathan’s surprise, he placed his hands on either side of the weapon and snapped it in half. He furrowed his brows in bewilderment, watching as the two halves fell to the ground at the Horseman’s feet. “I’m wide open, _Chosen One_.”

He suddenly felt sick, and exceedingly so. His eyes kept bounding from the shattered wand to the discarded swords and, as his gaze finally rested on his own weapon, he could only resist the urge to gag, because he had walked down those steps with full intent to kill a man, and no other part of his mind even questioned it.

_You could never bring yourself to kill anyone in the first place, now could you?_

He snapped his head to the entrance where Rocket had been ordered to stay, taking a deep breath. “Go find Tyler, or Craig, or anyone- tell them not to look for me until sunrise,” The noise that emitted from the animal was so close to a growl he felt a sharp pang in his chest, smiling sadly at her. “We both know that I could never keep a promise.” He drew in a shake-ridden breath. “I love you, Rocket. Don’t forget that. Now go,” She only stood still, her body half-turned towards the steps as she looked at him with wide eyes. “Go!”

He watched with a heavy chest as she bounded up the stairs with his order, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His eyes swelled up with tears as they turned downcast towards the ground. Now, with her gone, he knew this encounter would soon come to an end.

“I’m waiting.” He snapped his head towards the enemy, tightening his grip on the wand in his hand. Jon pointed his wand straight to the man’s chest, but refrained from using it. 

“If I die here, tonight,” He began, and the man ahead cocked his head in intrigue. “If you truly are the Chosen One- I want you to promise me something.” 

“For your amount of skill, I’m sure I could bear a word. Enlighten me.” Jonathan swallowed in his throat, his open hand clenching by his side.

“If you win this war, I want you to promise me now that you won’t hurt anyone else.” The man gave no reaction, and Jonathan continued. “You’ll stop killing innocent people out of rage, and you’ll protect those that line up to bow to their new king-” He sniffed. “You’ll be the Chosen One the gods intended you to be.”

The man remained silent for a minute or so, his smirk fading as his hands went loose at his side. Their eyes remained locked, unwilling to surrender, and Jonathan’s wand never removed its target. 

“You have my word.”

~#~

Evan jumped from the owl’s back, pulling out his wand to convert Vanoss to his original state. He summoned his hat and placed it on his head as Craig approached, reaching up to smooth down the bird’s feathers when he landed. He gave a brief nod to Tyler before the other went back to interrogating what looked to be a general of the Horseman.

“What news?” Craig asked him, and Evan sighed as he switched his weight to the opposite foot. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I made it without any major injuries- I can’t say the same for my regiment, but we managed to take out most of their Airborne force and take any who were willing as war prisoners.” Craig had been about to comment, but the man in captivity across the tower spoke, first.

“What about the Horseman’s Airborne Leader?” The man asked with a fast tongue, and Tyler pointed his wand at the man when he shifted forward a bit too far for the magician’s liking. “Where is he?”

He drew a sharp breath. With just one glance at the man, Evan knew his Airborne Leader meant a lot to him. He swallowed in his throat. “He died in action.”

The man was still for a moment, his face bearing that of disbelief. Evan felt his heart drop in his chest, and tried his damndest not to turn away when tears welled in the general’s eyes. He watched as Tyler and Craig shared a look of realization, and it came to Evan’s attention that they knew something he didn’t. 

Upon his head, he felt Vanoss lift off, and heard the soft patter of frantic footsteps as a raccoon came around the corner. Vanoss seated himself on the ledge, and as Rocket began chirping furiously to the owl, Evan wondered just why she wasn’t with Jonathan, protecting him. The devastating possibilities began popping into his head one after the other, and didn’t realize Vanoss was talking to him until the bird was pecking at his clothes. 

“What?” Vanoss nearly squawked with the sound he made, and his chest tightened as he understood exactly what the owl was relaying to him. 

_Jonathan is in trouble_.

And dear Umbris, did he _run_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I'm crying. We've got one more chapter and the epilogue and that's it, that's the end. Trust me, I'm crying just as much as you are. Prepare your tissues (if you haven't already) for the shit that's gonna go down in ch. 19. 
> 
> Bryce has a death orb, everyone's worried about it, Ryan's almost there, Brian's dead and Brock is sad about it, Jonathan's a bit down in hope, and Rocket is just too pure for this shit. I'm just as concerned as y'all must be and I'm the one writing the damn thing.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and support! I read them- trust me, I do- but it's always on the gmail on my phone, and I can't respond, there. Trust me, when I lose my passion for writing this story, I look back at those comments all the time! All y'all are peaches!!!!


	19. Outro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm the king of my own land_  
>  Facing tempests of dusts,  
> I'll fight until the end  
> Creatures of my dreams,  
> Raise up and dance with me  
> Now and forever,  
> I'M YOUR KING

Jonathan, for the most part, expected the Horseman to reveal his actual wand somewhere beneath his armor in the midst of their duel, but it seemed they both knew that couldn’t be the case. 

His legs were beginning to ache, and his head was beginning to spin, and he was beginning to feel every inch of energy drain away as he lashed at his foe with spell upon spell. The Horseman, as powerful as he was, also seemed to begin to feel the effects; he’d been using his own magic to block each of Jonathan’s attacks and was starting to pay for it, yet he kept that taunting smirk on his face.

If Jonathan truly were to die here, he prayed to Umbris that smirk wasn’t the last thing he’d ever see. Of course, to avoid death, he would need some sort of miracle, he knew, yet he firmly doubted he would be able to escape it in any case. As the Prime Magician had spoken before their departure- no one is ever ready when death comes knocking at your door, but it would be him to decide when to let her in.

Perhaps, to rid the world of both evils, he could kill two birds with one stone, if that was what it would take to defeat the enemy.

Jonathan stopped in his rapid movements as did his foe, looking down upon him with a curious yet cocky expression. He gripped the wand tighter in his hand, his mind tracing through image upon image of that damn Book of Grevaligne, trying to recall a certain spell he had seen before. He knew its effects, but not its name, and he couldn’t be sure he had time to try and remember.

“Why have you stopped, charlatan? Surely you could use those other weapons you carry and give me at least somewhat of a challenge. Say, maybe,” Jonathan furrowed his brows, panting. “Umbris’ Star that you carry?” 

His hand reached behind his back, his hand delicately touching the weapon hidden there. All thoughts of Grevaligne’s spells were gone, his mind now racing with loose conclusions; had Ryan not told him the Star’s true power, or did he not know of it himself? Was the Horseman even speaking the truth? If he was, what exactly did that power entail?

_It allows you to speak to God- among other things._

Jonathan, upon a new realization, slid the staff slowly from his belt. If he was correct, and if the Prime Magician’s words ran true, Umbris would aid him in this battle at his request- if She hadn’t already. But what would he ask of her? He couldn’t just request for her to kill the Horseman- that was his duty- but what would she have to offer, and how would he communicate? The Prime Magician had said he cannot speak with her directly, and can only speak through tarot cards and the such. So, what then?

“You don’t even know how to use it, do you?” The man said mockingly, taking a step forward. Jonathan aimed his wand at the man in warning, clutching the staff tightly with his left. The star encaged within was still dim. He wasn’t sure Umbris would even want to help him in the first place- especially if he wasn’t the true Chosen One and was just naturally skilled at magics. “Reuben would do the same to me, as well- give me something and hope I could figure it all out on my own. When he gave me false hope, I ended up leaving…” The man stepped forward once more, still meters away but all the more threatening. And who the hell was Reuben? “I wonder why you haven’t done the same?”

“There are people that need me,” His words were so draught they almost sounded like croaks. “At least, they think they do, if I truly am the One. Even if I’m not the messiah they seek, I cannot let their wishes go unanswered. I speak as I stand before you-” He straightened his back, his wand still aimed at the Horseman’s chest. “I am a son of magicians. I am the Knight of Umbris, and I have sworn upon her name to fulfill the duty she has burdened me with. And I may be no Horseman, nor may I ever be the true Chosen One-” He lowered his wand, and instead replaced his aim with Umbris’ Star. “But I’m sure as hell gonna be your death sentence, one way or another.”

As he finished his short (yet well-given, in his opinion) speech, he heard distant footsteps from somewhere in the castle, drawing nearer. Even the Horseman had slight confusion lining his features, half of his body turned toward the staircase. Jonathan’s mouth gaped as Rocket raced down the steps, followed closely by Evan.

This was definitely not how things were supposed to turn out.

“Evan, no-” The other magician already had his wand aimed in the Horseman’s direction, but the man made no move to stop him as Evan quickly circled around from the stairs to where Jonathan now stood. “Rocket, I told you to leave!”

She growled back at him, and he scoffed. Evan, now by his side, resumed a defensive stance. “I said I’d make it back,” Evan told him, “And I said you would, too. If you die, I’m dying right alongside you.” 

“I already had a plan.” Jonathan, with his right hand, clenched his wand, eyes transfixed on the object. Evan looked briefly to him in question. Then, before Evan could stop him, the answer he’d been searching for popped into his head, and it came out practically as a scream when he aimed the wand toward his chest. “Super modum potentiea!”

While he’d been expecting a power boost, he hadn’t realized his heart would stop beating for a solid three seconds before resuming again, now beating faster and faster with each passing second. Magic, his signature blue, began to practically ooze from his fingertips, and he centered it all into his wand.

“Jonathan-!”

“I’ll be fine, Evan-” He choked out, his limbs starting to ache from the energy building rapidly in his veins. Even the Horseman looked at him as if he were a madman. “Promise- promise you’ll take care of Rocket-”

Evan, much to his surprise, shooed Vanoss from his hat to throw it elsewhere, taking his own wand and repeating the spell Jonathan had boasted just seconds ago. Jonathan swore to himself and felt tears gathering at his eyes. When the magician had collected himself, he turned to Jonathan with a defeatedly hopeful expression, a solemn smile finding its way onto his face. “They’ll be fine on their own.” 

The deed had been done. If they were to die- whether from the hand of the Horseman, or from their own newfound energy, they would die together- and, hopefully, their foe, as well.

He’d been about to cast the first spell when he felt a sudden burning at his hip, and looked down to see the Rod of Zephalus beginning to glow. Vanoss screeched from across the hall, and Jonathan looked to the owl for reassurance. It was happening again- Vanoss knew the calling of his first master.

Jonathan barely even had to touch the item to find himself, his veteran and the Horseman all in the astral plane, their affiliates nowhere in sight. He was now left without a single weapon- not his wand, not Umbris’ staff, not Zephalus’ Rod. He turned to find Evan’s father waiting for them, there, swiftly approaching. The elder’s eyes were transfixed on the enemy, as Evan’s eyes were transfixed on a man he hadn’t seen since he was a young boy.

“If we must fight, we may as well do it where no destruction can be done,” The man said, taking his place to Jonathan’s right. “With that energy you’re emitting, you’ll destroy anything within a five-mile radius.” Jonathan had been about to spill the endless questions racing through his mind, and he was sure Evan felt the same, but the man instead spoke to the enemy lying not too far ahead. “If I am to truly die, to be lost forever within this Plane, Horseman, know this-” The man took a defensive stance, drawing draw energy from his fingertips and shaping it into a whip. Jonathan had never seen such raw power. “You may have my soul, but you may never have my son’s.” 

“So be it.” The Horseman made a similar action, drawing power to shape it into a sword similar to the one he’d bore earlier. “I killed you once- don’t think I won’t do it again.” Evan’s father now turned to them, keeping his whip ready. 

“In any case, this must be a quick fight. Although it may not feel like it here, your energy is draining, and its draining quickly. If you die here, your soul is gone forever, and there will be no way to bring you back.” Evan looked at him with such desperation and bewilderment; Jonathan felt a pang in his chest. “It’s either you die here, or you die on Earth, knowing everyone around the castle will die with you.”

Jonathan looked down at his bare hands, not sure exactly how to form a weapon with his magic- but, in one moment, he thought of a sword, and in the next, his magic of blue began to take form. It was just as sharp as any other sword he’d ever carried, but was much lighter and easier to use, as if his body knew exactly what weapon would best suit him. Still, he didn’t relish in it, and took a stance as Evan formed a bow. If Jonathan was correct, it would give him eternal arrows, seeing as how one of red magic already sat there, ready to be fired.

After that, chaos ensued.

~#~

“Ryan! I found them!” Luke raced down the stairs, his robes bellowing behind as his eyes lay before the scene. Evan, Jonathan and the Horseman all lay unconscious about the floor, but their affiliates came rushing forward. Rocket began to chirp madly, yet he couldn’t understand a single word she spoke. Ryan fell not too far behind, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. 

Luke rushed to Jonathan’s body, falling by his side and taking the man’s wrist into his hands. While his other found the man’s throat, he searched for a pulse, and sighed in relief when he found one. Ryan remained silent, and he placed three fingers to Jonathan’s forehead as he searched for a consciousness. His senses told him that not only was it gone, but his soul had disappeared, as well. The Rod of Zephalus by his side cleared all suspicions. 

“They’re in the astral plane,” Luke spoke, standing to his feet. “I don’t know who the hell would summon them, but I know where they are.”

“Evan’s father,” Ryan spoke, his eyes transfixed on the Horseman. He took steady steps towards his body. “Jonathan has spoken with him before.”

“How do you know?” Luke stepped forward as well, a sign for Ryan not to grow any closer. 

“I’d been the one to request Umbris to send him there,” Ryan fell to his knees a meter away from the Horseman, longing to grow closer. “I’ve never been to good with explaining things, I guess.”

“But why would he summon them now?” Luke gestured towards the two unconscious bodies behind them. “Jon and Evan just used the spell of exceeding power. Perhaps he could have done it before they both risked their own lives?”

Ryan was silent before he answered. “Evan had been facing his last moments- and in those moments, he thought of his father.” Ryan crawled the rest of the way to the Horseman’s body, his fingers desperate to touch him yet remaining where they rested on his lap. Instead, he looked up to Luke, licking his chapped lips. “Get the sap. If they make it out, they’re gonna need it.”

“And if they don’t make it out?” Ryan fell silent, his fingers finally finding their way into the man’s hair. He kept his eyes transfixed there, hands trembling as they moved. 

“I’ll kill Bazel myself. I should have done it a long time ago.”

~#~

Jonathan’s magic roared, practically flaming from his sword as he swished it about, careful to remain out of Evan’s aim. Master Fong took a different approach, standing on the other side of the Horseman to surround him. Even when they had him surrounded by both sides, the Horseman remained steady, dodging or reflecting each attack. 

His first wound came when the Horseman managed enough time and space to slice his sword across Jonathan’s thigh, the cut running not too deep but enough to startle him. Still, with a few swear words through clenched teeth, he was lurching forward again, only to find himself with another slash about his arm somewhere around a minute later. Or, at least, he assumed that was the proper time estimate; he couldn’t be sure. 

With blood seeping from his wounds and energy threatening to lock his joints at any moment, he felt as if his body were about to give in. However, as moments passed, he began to notice how energy began to seep from within the wounds as well, loosening the building tension. The Horseman was preoccupied by Master Fong for the most part, so he turned his head to find Evan, barely even able to pull the string of his bow, no matter how easy his magic made it for him. 

Jonathan summoned a small throwing knife to his hand and chucked it with precision, watching as it grazed the man’s thigh. Evan looked to him as if he were mad, but Jonathan knew- if they survived- that Evan would thank him later. Even still, he was sure that the energy would catch up to them if they didn’t treat it quickly, so really, all he did was buy them more time.

He put this time to good use, however, as he once again lurched forward to strike. The Horseman had summoned yet another sword and managed to block his attack, then letting it dissipate and swinging the one in his left hand towards him. He dodged and swung back once again. The Horseman blocked this move as well, and Jonathan had him at a standpoint. His sword was being pressed down by the blade above it once more, and in that moment, he saw the man’s true rage burning through his eyes. They held no more humor nor pettiness- only lust for Jonathan’s blood.

The man’s eyes then went wide, and the man looked startled as he suddenly turned his head to see Master Fong with the whip wrapped around his arm. An arrow then fired straight into the Horseman’s calf and he threw his head back in pain, and Jonathan knew he couldn’t waste any more time. 

His sword pierced the man’s chest through his armor and came out on the other side. His magic seeped from the sword into his veins, and blood began to pool at the corners of his lips. His eyes went wide; there was no more anger, only some sort of shock, along with something eyes. 

Regret, Jonathan saw. For what he could not be sure.

The last thing he recalled from the Astral Plane was seeing Evan run to his father, embracing him for a short moment before the world faded to a complete white, before he opened his eyes once more.

It was then he saw Luke kneeling by his side, helping him sit up where he lay on the floor. A strange substance was poured immediately into his throat, and he took it without question. When the doctor ran to Evan to do the same, his vision landed on the Prime Magician, and his ears finally stopped ringing to hear the soft weeping. His elder had his arms wrapped tightly around the man, tears slowly spilling from his sockets as he cradled the Horseman’s body in his arms. Like he’d seen in the astral plane, blood trailed from the corners of his mouth, his body now limp and cold against the hard floor. 

He craned his neck to see Evan, watching as the man choked on the substance Luke fed him before swallowing it smoothly. Jonathan, unable to move his legs, weakly tried to slide with his forearms, only for them to give out, as well. He kept his eyes transfixed on him, recalling their last moments of embrace before the battle. He found himself smiling weakly. He couldn’t tell if he was dying or if he was just tired. Either way, he still felt a sense of pride in that moment. 

He had kissed Evan. He wondered if anyone else had ever had the pleasure of doing so. 

He heard Rocket scuttering quickly towards him and tried leaning back to greet her, only for her to jump over his body and run straight for the Prime Magician. Before Jonathan could completely register what was happening, he saw the man with a wand pointed at his head, and his eyes still on the Horseman’s slack features. 

Luke shouted to him before running to his side, though made no move to disarm him. They shared a kiss, an embrace, and some tears before Ohm ran to his master and jumped on his lap. Rocket practically screeched when Luke tore her away, swallowing in his throat with his face stained from crying. Jonathan felt a hand take his own, and turned to see that Evan had crawled to his side, now asleep once more.

That was the day Evan Fong became known as the Prime Magician.

~#~

“Do you have any last words, General Brock Hanby?” The man remained on his knees, hands bound behind his back. This was an awful day for an execution, Jonathan thought, as he looked up at the bright, cloudless sky. He would feel much less guilty on a rainy day. Evan said he shouldn’t feel guilty at all; this man had pleaded for an execution, on the condition he would be buried next to his lover.

They had complied with the man’s wishes. They now stood not too far from an open grave, his tombstone already lodged into the ground before it. Next to it, another plaque beared the name of Brian Hanby, and the remains they had found some six feet below. They were the only people buried there; they were not in a cemetery, but somewhere beyond the battlefield, where the poppies now sprung. Jonathan wasn’t aware that anyone had cast a spell there, and if the poppies truly had grown naturally, it must have been a good tiding. A new dawn, Ryan might have said. 

The man before them was silent for a few moments, looking back to the grave next to his own before gazing up at them once more. “I was born into the life in which you found me living,” He began. “As a young child, my mother- whom of which had been raised the same- kept me as distant from the Horseman as her power allowed; when she died, I kept my feelings hidden and found myself at the right hand of evil.

“However, I also found myself with Brian. He felt the same as I did; he feared evil, yet had no choice but to obey its commands. I think I’ve known for a while that things would end, but it has been an honor to die in the hands of good.” He felt Evan shift beside him, the man’s hand finding his Jonathan’s arm for comfort. He reveled in it, his left hand crossing his chest to rest upon his lover’s. “I don’t think I’ve ever feared death in its own self; I believe what I’ve always feared was that my death would be in vain.

“You have all offered me a second chance,” Hanby smiled sadly at them as his eyes gathered tears, and Jonathan closed his eyes as his head fell. “A chance to finally live with Brian in peace. I know he’s waiting for me.” The man swallowed. “I once heard a Christian mantra,” The man looked towards the sky, as if searching for answers. “ _Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord_... I don’t think I’ve ever really understood what it meant until now.” 

Someone behind him sniffed, and someone else caught their breath through silent tears. Jonathan opened his eyes again, finding the sky. Was he thinking of them, back down on Earth? Jonathan thought of Ryan every day, but he knew his longing would never match that of Luke’s, or Mark’s, or even Evan’s. He could, in a way, understand what Brock was feeling, yet he wasn’t quite as ready for death as he’d thought during that battle a month ago. 

Brock looked to Tyler, licking his chapped lips. He let out a quivering breath before nodding. “I’m ready.” 

Tyler stepped forward, drawing the wand from his belt. The wind blew heavy, then, and the man’s cloak bellowed. “We wish you safe passage, General Hanby.” Brock smiled, closing his eyes and letting his body go slack. Jonathan turned away, and Evan drew his head closer to his own with his eyes transfixed on the poppies around them. “Reliqua.”

~#~

Jonathan awoke as the sun slipped past the mountains, slowly streaming through their window; he didn’t bother to move, nor would he ever dare to; next to him, Evan lay on his stomach, an arm draped over Jonathan’s chest. In this light, he looked like a god himself- an Achilles incarnated. His fingers delicately traced the scars, there, and then moved about his skin like water. He hadn’t realized he craved seeing this image before him until he had it for himself. Now, he knew he would never let anyone else have it. 

Evan awoke not too long after, groaning into Jonathan’s skin; he pressed soft kisses there, stretching as his bare moved along the other’s. Jonathan smiled when their eyes met, and his hand found its way into Evan’s hair. He was growing it out on the top, keeping the sides and the back short. He found it endearing. 

“Good morning,” Evan mumbled, his fingers tracing a tattoo on Jonathan’s skin. They’d talked about Evan getting some of his own, perhaps one day. Jonathan had been about to reply before Rocket jumped upon the bed, having squeezed herself through the door with Vanoss fluttering in not too far behind. Evan giggled, and Jonathan smiled at the sound it of. “And good morning to you both, as well.”

Rocket chirped, wedging herself between Jonathan’s free arm as Vanoss sat upon a bedpost behind them. Jon reached up with a free hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, stretching his subtly before letting his body go slack. Evan snuggled closer, sighing into his skin. 

Jonathan pressed a kiss to his forehead, about to suggest that they shoo away their affiliates and _go for just one morning round, Evan!_ , but was rudely interrupted as the door flew open. Lui Jr. flew into the room, giggling, with his fathers not too far behind. Evan was quick to pull the covers up further as Lui grabbed his kid, lifting him with a groan. The kid must have been seven, now. Lord Nagle leaned in the doorway, an apologetic look adorning his features. 

“Sorry to disturb ye’, he’s been riled up all morning-” From somewhere in the hall, he heard Marcel’s voice, and sighed as his head fell back into the pillow. Every. Single. Morning. “Well, yeah, he’s awake, who the hell do you think I’m talking to-?”

Lord Nagle was shoved out of the way with a breathy laugh as Marcel charged in, Daisy quick to climb on the bed. “Did you two steal my incense, last night?” The man crossed his arms at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot. 

“It was a special occasion!” Evan threw a hand up exaggeratedly, and Jon giggled as the man next to him smiled.

“And which special occasion would that be?”

They were silent for a moment before Jonathan responded. “Fun times, good vibes?” 

He and Evan laughed as Craig and Tyler entered the room. Great. Not only were they naked with just a few blankets on top of them, but it seemed the entire temple wanted a view. “My incense is to woo Scotty, not for you two to get friendly!”

Craig sat at the end of the bed, still in his nighttime robes as Tyler walked over to the closet to judge their wardrobes. “Hey, guys. Heard we were having a party in here.” 

“Oh my god,” Jonathan laughed breathlessly. “You’re all assholes, I swear.” He bent his arm to pet Rocket, and she leaned into his touch. “What do you need, Craig? And why is Tyler surfing through our wardrobe?”

“Well, I really don’t know why exactly Tyler is rummaging through your stuff, but I do know that the Rod is beckoning you.” Jonathan looked to him with a solemn expression. “I think you should probably take Evan, too. It’ll be better for the both of you.” 

Jonathan sighed, throwing a dismissive hand into the air. “Everyone out! I’m naked and I’m not afraid to tear off these covers!” There were a few giggles that filled the room, along with Tyler’s displeased grumbling as they each filed out of the room. When the door shut behind them, Jonathan slid from beneath the covers, leaving Evan to watch from the bed. 

As he was pulling on his briefs, Evan moved to lay on his side. “How long has it been since I told you that you’re gorgeous, Jon?” He hummed in reply, nodding his head towards his phone on the nightstand. 

“What time is it?”

Evan reached over, grabbing the device. “Six-thirty.” 

“That would be about eight hours, then.” Evan laughed and stood as Jonathan slid his skin-tight trousers on, now accustomed to the feeling; ever since he’d officially became recognized as the Chosen One, he was told by Lord Nagle that it’d be in his best interest to dress as he had during the battle. So, every day, he wouldn’t leave his room without looking sharp, with the boots and the jacket-cape and all that. He found he quite liked it; there were quite a few designs for one single style. Today, he chose gold, if only to compliment Evan’s red Prime get-up. It looked like a butler’s outfit, with a tailcoat stretching to his knees behind him and white gloves to match. It looked ravishing upon him, especially with the red, gold-lined tophat and the gold watch in the pocket of his vest. 

Jonathan only wore his first outfit on special occasions. He was hesitant to ever get it out at all, as was Evan- so they simply moved on. For the better, they both decided. 

They left the room together, slowly pacing their way down the hall with arms intertwined. Vanoss perched himself upon Evan’s hat as Rocket followed by his feet, long used to the cape gently brushing against her tail every so often. On the way to the office, Jonathan bid a good morning to all those who chanted it before him, and Evan smiled right along with them. It was routine- one that would never get old. 

They hadn’t touched very much of the office since Ryan passed. They’d kept the same furniture, the same books and style, only it had been tidied here and there. The items were now stored there in cases, sealed tight with spells keeping out any unwanted visitors. They made their way over to the Rod of Zephalus, and Jonathan found that they both hesitated before it. 

It had been the same routine for a year, and it never grew old. 

Evan pulled out his wand and unlocked the case, keeping an arm firmly around Jonathan’s own as he reached out to touch it. When they reached the astral plane, they found their visitors already waiting for them. The white Jonathan had once been used to was now a meadow, tall grasses and wildflowers sprung about. They found Ryan and Master Fong sat beneath a tree, a blanket spread with tea floating about the air. Ohm rested upon his owner’s lap, chewing lettuce. 

They made their way over, seating themselves. Evan silently embraced his father, now used to seeing his face there once more. “Good very morning to you, my Prime,” Jonathan bid with a smile. It was always strange to him, seeing Ryan as calm as he was; Jonathan couldn’t recall a time in the flesh that he didn’t have circles under his eyes or still shoulders about his torso. It was a sight for sore eyes.

“Not your Prime Magician.” Jonathan gave a breathless laugh and gladly accepted the tea that was offered to him, as did Evan.

This routine would never grow old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we made it! we finally reached the end of the story! i decided not to write an epilogue, since not much would happen anyway. i'll admit, i got really emotional there at the end, and it was even worse when i listened to Outro by M83! 
> 
> they defeated the Horseman, and Ryan can finally rest. Luke and Mark are probably gonna hang around until Jonathan and Evan are ready to pass, and cross over themselves. the prophecy has been fulfilled, and i am in TEARS!!! 
> 
> i wanted to thank you all one last time for all of the support this fic got. i wouldn't have been able to pull through without it, i don't think. it warms my heart to hear all of your supportive comments, just knowing you all enjoyed this story just as as much as i loved writing it! im not sure yet if i wanna do another fic for the BBS, but i'll certainly be back (hopefully soon)! it only took me seven months, but we came a long way, and i'm glad so many of you stuck around!
> 
> until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> it will make a lot more sense later on, i promise. also, chapters after this will be 4k words and up. and dont fucking say theyre gonna 'make some magic' why would you make such a shitty pun-


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